Soul Sonata
by Hanachu
Summary: After leaving his fame and family behind him, police officer Wes Evans finds himself working with sarcastic-at-best Shinigami's daughter Misery Death, older sister of Death the Kid and his partner on the latest string of murders. But when the same old song strikes and secrets in Wes's blood only complicate matters, what they hunt soon hunts them...Wes Evans x OC. Later SoMa. Lemon!
1. Chapter 1

That day, when Wes drove his comfortably beaten Mustang into the parking lot, he was far from reflecting how today would be different than any other. After turning off the Garcin disk that had been playing, he yanked at his tie to straighten it.

His other hand strayed to secure his keys clipped next to his safely sheathed gun; then passed his fingers to tidy his white hair. He slammed the car door shut with less care than he ought and walked his way into the station without locking it, what idiot would try to steal a cops car?

The shield shaped badge over his heart shone as it caught the pale rays of early morning light. It also gleamed upon the coffee and sandwich wrappers of that mornings hurried breakfast, crumpled forgotten on the back seat. The fallen leaves crunched under his feet as the door whooshed open for his entrance in a gentle gasp.

He nodded to his work colleague behind the greeting desk. Much the unintended epitome of the satirical cop image, Charlie had ruddy, weathered cheeks and deep set eyes. At the moment he was gazing dolefully at the glazed doughnut glistening with sugared promises in his meaty fist, rather than the albino in front of him. Some guard.

"Hey, Charlie," he called over his shoulder. Wes guessed his silence precedented some unwelcome news he would soon hear about - that they was still no new information on the latest case, something that was now taking so long it was beginning to get him red hot under the collar.

"The wife.." Charlie muttered, shrugging his momentous, sagging shoulders as he brushed powdered icing from the front of his strained navy shirt, "She wants me to stop eating these-" he turned the doughnut this way and that, before taking a bite and chewing noisily, "-But I just can't,"

Wes made a noncommittal but pained face, as though he could sympathise. But no, despite his parents earlier efforts for an arranged marriage to some primped and powdered little thoroughbred of their choosing, he was as childless and single now as the day that they estranged him.

His eyes, blazing red more from lack of sleep than family genes, surveyed the room. An old man dressed in rumpled clothing, slumped sideways as he slept off the effects of alcohol from the night before. A few seats away a mother loudly lectured her unimpressed teenage son, armed with leaflets on the negative effects of taking drugs taken from the front desk.

Same old reality: the disconnected parents of the murdered children staring at him without really seeing. Each word they spoke whimpered with unvoiced questions, like the curl on a cowering dogs tail. They remained Wes of once colourful shirts turned grey in the washer.

He was about to turn into the office when he noticed a smudge of black so unobtrusive that he almost missed it as he walked past. His shoes made a loud squeak on the floor as he did a double take, almost skipping back on his heels.

She sat smoking a hand rolled cigarette, despite the posters plastering the walls that stated otherwise. Her head was bent into a book on her lap and she held an empty cup in her other hand, which was extended as though she expected somebody to take it. The curling smoke matched an almost silver stripe sprouting from her temple, as pale as her colourless skin.

For a moment, her outlandish appearance made him hesitate against going over, but he pushed the feeling aside. She looked so weird, how he had almost overlooked her? "Excuse me? Surely you've been told that you can't smoke in here.." he began.

The look she gave him from under that fringe froze him. She peered up from her book as though he had was the once who was indecent for disturbing her. Somehow, he immediately felt as stupid and belittled with that single glance as he had in his childhood - when his parents had forgotten to come to one of his violin recitals.

Despite the glare, he noticed her eyes were pleasantly angular like a felines and fringed in heavy black, giving a startling contrast to the yellow colour. They also held all the trepidation of a rabbit facing the barrel of a gun.

"Someone may have mentioned that once," she replied, and made no move aside from her slender, pale fingers to flick the ash onto the floors. That irritated him enough that that he instinctively took a step forwards, before composing himself.

"I'd appreciate it if you put that out, or took it outside.." he answered in as level a voice as he could. He could feel his forehead crinkling like an accordion.

She folded over the corner of her page and put the book inside a black backpack; the colour matched the glimpse of dress she was wearing beneath her dark jacket. It wasn't until she stood up that he noticed her feet were completely bare. Definitely an odd one.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he was now nothing if not eager to get her and her cigarette out of the building. He noticed she was painfully slim and barely came up to his chest, surely he could use measured force if this turned violent?

"Isn't everyone?" She responded. She walked away and he could hear was her feet slapping softly against the tiles. His glare stayed glued with unbreakable concentration on the sway of her retreating hips.

As she passed the mother, the woman used her hand to divert her sons' floundering gaze. Charlie's head stayed firmly inside his newspaper. The door slammed shut with surprising force from such a tiny woman.

Wes was suffering from an awkward sensation. It felt like he just experienced a cold bucket of water being poured over his head in public. Nonplussed, he shook his head and scratched the base of his skull with the heel of his hand.

He glanced back over his shoulder at Charlie, who was still pretending to read. He walked over to the door to his office and opened it to go inside, receiving a few nods and distracted greetings.

The familiar faces of his comrades were worn with more than age; the peaceful town that had long since been a placid respite had recently become alive with the unpleasant killing of teenagers. The media trailed behind each corpse like wasps to the scent of spilled jam.

All the more pressure for Wes to produce a successful arrest. What was ridiculous about accepting all this stress was that he only wanted this job as a hobby in the first damn place. He almost curled his hand into a fist before realising somebody was talking to him. He blinked; that strange woman must have riled him.

"I'm sorry Ray, I was somewhere else.." he tried to smile a little. His friend Ray was one of the more younger men on the force. Wes was closer to him than some of the more seasoned officers that he respected too much to have a down to earth conversation with.

"See, like I was saying. The reason we have no clue what's going on like this is 'cause you aren't getting enough sleep to barely drag yourself into work some days.." he raised an eyebrow, stirring a coffee in his hand as though he wasn't a hypocrite with bags under his eyes. Although, they came from raising one of those happy families he was forever reminding Wes to settle down and obtain.

"There was a weird women with bare feet, waiting. She was smoking like she didn't even-" he stopped explaining when a ham-like hand clapped him on the shoulder and span him around in his office chair. When the world settled he met the alarmed features of Harrington, his boss.

"Evans. What did you say?" he spat, a thick vein pulsating in his neck. He had been taken to necking shots under his desk when he thought nobody was looking. It didn't help the redness that already spread across his potato shaped nose.

"I said that there was a shoeless woman sat smoking-" Wes was cut off again, which was beginning to get a little annoying. It was too early for him for everyone to be so volatile around him, had the coffee machine stopped working?

"Is she still there?" Harrington shook his shoulder although the answer could be physically torn from him. Wes shook his head and he wordlessly vanished through the door at the brisk pace of a man several years his youth.

"What was that all about..." He muttered but suddenly everyone was appearing busy and not meeting his eyes.

In keeping with the unusual theme of that morning the door swung back forth again as Harrington held it open, a courtesy he rarely extended. It was all Wes could do to keep his chin from hitting the carpet when he saw he was being polite to the woman from earlier. She swept inside with a lingering trail of smoke and scent of floral incense he hadn't noticed before.

He caught a snatch of Harrington simpering - actually simpering! "I do apologise, of course Miss. Eerie. It was completely inexcusable and do hope that you will..." Wes smirked. The name Miss. Eerie suited the odd woman perfectly.

"Of course, it is fine" she answered him timidly with a very tiny smile, which he leapt at before barking at someone to make some tea - "Green, please" she spoke. He noticed she didn't have to strain to be heard - there was a quiet firmness to it as if she was used to being respected. Someone who didn't need to raise her voice to silence a room.

"Would you care to take a seat? Can one of my men take your coat or get you something to eat?" he reached towards her as though to pat her on the arm, then recoiled as he thought better of it.

This was confusing for Wes, that Harrington should be acting almost afraid of her. He wasn't sure what was so subtly threatening about this stranger, but she had authority over a man whose shadow he once quaked from.

Silence fell, everybody hurriedly reassumed their former tasks or rushed out. Ray winked before putting his finger to his lips and returning to his desk. Wes turned on his computer before grabbing a handful of yellow sticky notes that had been left for his attention.

His eyes unfocused as his ears perked to catch any noise. The entire office was more silent than he'd ever heard it and nobody spoke until she had taken off her jacket and puddled it around her waist. After taking the time to exchange pleasantries - more so on his Boss's part doing the asking and her noncommittal answers - she said she wasn't hungry.

Harrington began to fidget and mumbled, "Perhaps you are unaware of the date, as you are two days late.." He twitched visibly, "But of course, we are indebted to you and SO grateful for you returning,"

"I believed I was a week early," she replied honestly, in a somewhat drowsy voice, "I haven't a head for dates," Wes almost smirked as he visualised Harrington straining not to erupt at her vapid manner.

She thanked whoever brought the tea, he could smell the herbal mint scent from the mug and chose it as an excuse to look over; Harrington appeared understandably uncomfortable. She looked like a normal, bewildered witness, but before Wes turned back around he noticed she wore no wedding ring. He didn't know why that seemed important to him. "We both know I'm aware you have a reason for requesting me.."

"Yes, yes of course" Harrington sounded both relieved and cautious to approach the subject, "It is the same regretful business as usual..." he stopped, and his voice dropped a fraction lower, "..and large media coverage, due to the youth of the victims-" he stopped as a man joined them briefly.

"Who will be taking me to the place of death?" she asked in the same blunt manner. Despite her musical voice and the accent he couldn't place, her manner of cutting to the quick was not so sweet.

"Ill assign an officer. But this is not a single case. We would appreciate you considering and staying here for a period of-"

"You will be valuing my payment based upon the amount of explanations produced?" she spoke as though they discussed the weather. Harrington spluttered as she did nothing to quieten her voice upon the subject. Wes heard a large slurp of tea and thought he had never heard someone who could drink so petulantly, "I should only need to visit one site. Seeing the corpses of the others is usually enough for me to decide if there is a connection,"

Harrington mumbled in the lowest voice yet, "Of course, and you are free to help yourself to anything you feel you may need from the evidence room, as before.." An involuntary jerk of Wes' s hand almost knocked his mouse off his desk, and Ray raised a dark, furry eyebrow at him.

"Evans. Something to interject?" he heard Harrington ask just before the back of his chair was booted and his chest hit the front edge of the desk painfully. He heard sniggering and rubbed the sore spot frowning. Time to pick on the new guy all over again, which had been almost a year ago now.

He rushed to answer, but noticed his elbow had been leant on the keyboard and it was steadily filling his screen with nonsense drivel. Harrington smirked, "I didn't think so. Nothing to do? You can take Miss. Eerie to the most recent murder site,"

That wasn't Wes's immediate choice of reason to get back out from behind his desk, but he would grab a lifeline when he saw it, "Alright," he conceded.

He watched as she gestured her cup and Ray came out from behind his desk to take it back to the adjacent kitchen to be washed. They didn't have the funding or space for hired secretaries to do it, and instant coffee was a godsend. She shrugged on her coat, and rolled another cigarette which she immediately lit.

Harrington rushed to open the door when he saw Wes had no such intention, "Do you have lodging? The cells are full tonight, a high school party gone nasty that we hauled in," he shook his head, "You won't want to share a pillow with any of those testosterone filled twerps regardless of their hangovers," he forced a smile, it strained tight across his teeth and from the widening of his eyes was painful, "And of course, we have had issues with motels in the past..."

That confused Wes, he knew of several motels nearby that would be sure to have free rooms during this quieter season - the murders didn't help tourism either, "Yes. They will not do." she answered with the first hint of coldness she had displayed towards him in their initial meeting earlier. Wes fought the urge to rub his upper arms as an inexplicable chill rose goosebumps to them.

Harrington was so eager to appease that in raising his palms he let the door loose. Wes quickly reached across to catch it before it swung to hit her in the face, "I'm sorry. But of course..." he put the words as delicately as he could, "Most of the men here have wives, and children..what with your profession, they are uncertain as to invite you into their homes.."

The albino raised an eyebrow, was there something beside her odd appearance that would make her unwelcome? "Why, Martin.." Both men jumped at the sound of Harrington's first name, "Surely what with my trouble reaching here, you would have prepared suitable lodging.." Harrington locked eyes with Wes as though he were a drowning man, and him aboard a ship. He suddenly had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"Evans here has only been here a year - so you won't have met him before, but he's a good enough officer who also happens to be in charge of your case," That surprised Wes, Harrington was never one to compliment him more than necessary before, "I am sure he would be willing to offer a roof for one of our most respected and important aides," He glared nakedly at his subordinate.

"But, I only have the one - and -" he attempted complaining. Harrington's expression changed to one that would surely demote him to chaperoning at high school dances and picking up trash for the rest of his life. A house guest for a few days would be wonderful compared to reliving the experience of prying drunk, underage teenagers off each other and scouting in the toilet tanks for hidden bottles of vodka.

"I am sure he would be willing to sleep on the couch.." she spoke, almost parroting him; Harrington didn't seem to pick up on her mockery and seemed to take her request as a genuine suggestion. His chin tilted as he pondered.

"Without question!" he enthused, as Wes completely lost his grasp on the conversation. He could see Ray grinning at him, a shit eating one he wanted to wipe off his face because it usually meant he had picked up on something Wes hadn't.

"Now, if you would please follow Evans.." he politely shepherded them out the door as though eager to get rid of an unwanted visitor he was regardless terrified to offend, "He'll assist you in any way he can under my official instruction. I hope you find his home suitable.." he fixed Wes with another look before shutting the door.

The albino was absolutely befuddled by the proceedings but his body went through the process even as it struggled to absorb the conclusion. There was silence aside from the click of pacing footwear he paced ahead, his mind reeling. She followed him past the vacated seats that the parent and child had emptied; the old man roused himself as they walked by.

He yawned, spittle shone in ropes from between his teeth, "We're all going to die.." he mumbled, slurring and almost incoherent. She passed the man the remainder of her cigarette.

The one that she shouldn't even be smoking inside! Wes half-attempted to stop her, moving his arm slightly but it seemed physically repelled an inch away from her shoulder.

"Tell me about it," she indulged him in the softest tone he'd heard her use. She stood up and he saw her eyes were golden, with a red ring around the middle of the iris.

He blinked, and suddenly the thin crimson circle was gone. She walked away, passing Charlie and making the poor man sweat with a simple goodbye. Wes was left floundering behind, following this woman to such allowances were simply handed.


	2. Chapter 2

When he arrived at his car she was already perched on the bonnet as though she had been told to meet him there, "How-how did you know that was my car?" he spluttered, immediately wishing he had held his tongue. She perked her head innocently to one side. The sun threaded silver glints in the streak colouring her hair.

"It looks like the sort of thing you would drive.." was all she replied before she leapt off with childlike exuberance, he tried not to notice how the dress flickered to expose a little of her upper thigh. Once he showed her that he trusted the neighbourhood enough to leave the door unlocked, she opened it and slid inside.

Wes rested an arm on top of the Mustang and stared across the empty parking lot. How had his life been turned upside down in less than an hour? The albino was known around the office as having a somewhat nonchalant and laid back attitude, it didn't help with handing paper-work in on time but his cool-headedness was often what helped him solve a case. Yet ever since entering the building this morning, he'd felt one step behind.

Once sat down inside he clipped in his seatbelt as she sat with the door open and her scant luggage by her heels. Before he could ask what she was waiting for, a black cat stepped daintily into the car and wound itself sinuously around her ankles.

He gaped, openly. To show his expanse of rather jagged, fang like teeth. He hurriedly shut his mouth, but she was prepared with a face as smooth as a pond, reflecting nothing, "What, is - is that your cat?" he finally asked, to be met with two sets of eyes which showed open despair of him. The furrier of the two then yawned.

"As much as one can claim ownership over a living creature.." She shrugged, "You aren't allergic, it can stay with us.." she said the last word lightly, as though it meant nothing but the word itself. He supposed she was correct for doing do, but that didn't stop him from again glancing at the skin of her absent ring-finger.

He didn't ask how she had known that he had no animal allergies, "It have a name?" He asked, finally putting the keys in to turn the ignition. Before he could even start reversing the CD of classical pieces started to play. He fumbled to mute it before the heat that had started at his neck spread from his nose to his ears.

"Why do people always want to label things?" She questioned back, saying nothing about his choice of music. Wes wound his window down when he saw she was rolling another cigarette, boy did she have an addiction!

He couldn't believe this woman would be staying with him when he didn't know a thing aside from the brand of tea she liked and her name! He found that he disliked the way she never answered a question directly. It was irritating. Why did his Boss treat her like a valued client, was she some form of specially trained detective?

"So, do you...know much about this case?" he asked. She blew smoke out of the window and the cats eyes slatted against the breeze.

"I will do, soon.." she gave a half-smile. He shook his head and concentrated on driving.

During the journey, she moved only to make cigarettes and smoke them. After some time of suffering in cloying silence, she readjusted the volume so the harmony of searing violins and piano crescendo filled the car. She didn't wear a seatbelt. That bothered him.

Once arriving, they walked beneath the trees in silence until they came to the site, "This is the area.." he explained once they stopped. The cat initially followed them away from the car, but then wound its way into the undergrowth and vanished. The reluctant owner seemed so unconcerned that Wes wondered if the cat ever truly was hers, and if it would return.

"As the leading officer on this case I assume that you have some evidence taken from the body?" she asked, standing like a crane to raise one leg and itch the back of her calf; he saw it get smudged with dirt. A lit cigarette burnt from between her lips and ash drifted uninhibited onto the grass.

"I do, but it's in the car. If you had mentioned it earlier I would-" he snapped his jaw shut as she smiled, that little slight tilt to the corner of her mouth again. It was so mocking.

"Could you please go get that for me?" she enquired sweetly, and her pleasantry stunned him enough that he immediately retraced his footsteps. When he returned, she was sat in the grass with her dress pulled up high enough that an indecent amount of thigh was visible.

He cringed. Coincidently she was sat exactly on the spot of leaves the corpse had been found - but with the debris she couldn't have known that. He considered telling her, but was unsure of how she would react. Why was she sat on the ground in the first place?

She outstretched her hand to reach out and he bent to pass the evidence bag, it contained a bloodstained glove. She closed her eyes and seconds later visibly paled. What was she going to do? She jerked a little, her lashes parting to reveal a gaze swimming to the surface as though shaking away vestiges of a bad dream.

She let out a gushy exhale and he realised that she had been holding her breath, but neither of them said anything. Wes had seen the life come back into a resuscitated human body before and found her expression similar; bewildered for the most part.

She seemed a little more timid and frail, which kept him from questioning her. In a distracted way he wondered if this was the reason for her preferential treatment. "Abigail.." She whispered, the name of the victim, "Take me back to Harrington.." She ordered finally, but made no move to stand. That was it, show over? He wondered what had just happened.

Before he could ask if she intended for him to physically carry her, she stood up and hung onto his arm. In silent shock he assisted in supporting her, choosing not to voice his alarm as they slowly made their way back to the mustang. Up close, the smell of the herbal scent she exhumed was enticing; and she weighed nothing.

The cat still wasn't there.


	3. Chapter 3

For once Wes was enjoying the stacks of mind numbing paperwork. The uniform pages and neatly typed writing soothed his frantic thoughts as he succumbed to the vibrating drone tasks of a worker bee. Aside from the thrill of the chase and gratification of a criminal behind bars, this was another perk of his job. To lose oneself in the data.

Later, Harrington came over to him - the first person to approach his desk since his return. "Evans, outside a moment please.."

Following him, Wes wondered if he was in for a verbal hiding, but the strained air between them seemed a different to the usual ear-bashing. Harrington had been talking to Miss. Eerie for over an hour. When the door closed on the curious eyes attempting to appear busy with work, the older man motioned him closer.

"Listen, you've settled in here well enough but in some ways you're still relatively new here.." he held up a hand when Wes made a noise of protest, "I know that this isn't a situation you're prepared for, but please treat Miss. Eerie as a respected member of the force," he swallowed, "She is a colleague who has worked well alongside me and is considered to be the best in the field of her...profession," Wes almost directly asked what that profession was, but the subject was purposefully changed, "She must be tired, it would be best to take her to your home,"

"What?" Wes was incredulous, and looked openly it, "I get the rest of the day off?" he bluntly enquired, seeking clarification.

"Wes.." Harrington ordered, and the albino man stiffened at the use of his first name. Only Ray usually called him it within the force, "Take this seriously. Watch her at all times, and get any developments immediately to me. You have my personal number,"

Well, today was just full of surprises. After a discussion - recounting the scene which he thought would arise more questions - Harrington seemed satisfied and he was excused. The albino walked outside to where she was stood by the car earlier, smoking. Her bag seemed more full than before, she hefted it up her arm as though the weight made it sore.

Although she knew it was unlocked he held the door open for her and she slid inside. He closed it and walked around to his own side, silently flustering as he secured his seatbelt. She didn't wear hers and he again did not comment on it.

As they drove, he turned down the volume of Alard to ask: "Do you have any other clothes or luggage to pick up before we head to my place?" She shook her head, then again when he asked if she was hungry.

He was surprised - that bag wasn't large enough to hold much, and if she had her own ride surely she would have said something..."Well, I'm not expecting guests...so, the house may be a mess," he drove one-handed for a few seconds as he scratched his neck, "When you are hungry, what do you like to eat? I'm not much of a chef," he forced a smile. Having a kitchen of servants and personal chefs throughout his childhood had left him with little culinary skills.

"Plain rice, whole grain. Coffee with milk and sugar, if you have no green tea.." she recited the rather plain dietary requirements to him. Wes wondered if money was an issue to her choice of diet. They sat in silence, listening to the muted tones of Alard until she spoke again.

"I was in the evidence room earlier.." she announced, uncannily a second after the question formed in his mind. He had wanted to ask, but it curdled in his throat and turned sour. What could she have possibly wanted in there? Harrington had given her permission to take whatever she wanted, whatever that meant.. "I was just looking at the evidence to see if I could learn anything.."

"I guess that I was trying to tell you that I've lived alone for a while.." the words were lured from his throat before he could tell they edged past his teeth. He almost slapped the steering wheel...what was wrong with his running mouth this morning?

"I'm sure that if I stay with you; I will learn much about you," she responded unexpectedly, and gave him a half-smile that he could see through the fringe of her hair. Her almost-smile caught him off guard in a manner which was becoming more familiar yet still a small shock to him each time.

Although the road home was such a well travelled one most of the time he paid little heed to his actions, today he was more distracted than usual and twice he caught himself about to complete driving offences he would usually pull somebody over for. Each time she didn't seem to notice.

When they arrived outside the modest detached Wes could resist comparing his unkept lawn and the view of the trees with his neighbours better sculpted gardens. The worn swing on the wooden porch came with the property and he rarely used it; he kept intending to buy a hammock.

The street was empty below the crowning of resplendent orange leaves, the inhabitants at work and children at school. Just how things should around this time of day, which was only just getting to lunch - and look at the mess he had already been dragged into.

"Well, here we are.." he swept outwards with a flourished hand, feeling like the most embarrassed and idiotic estate agent in history. He had a notion his hosting attempts would also be less than immaculate. At least he had bothered to shave the white down of stubble from the slopes of his cheeks that morning.

She stepped out as he turned off the ignition, though he had been prepared to again open the door for her. He guessed regarding her with the same reverence Harrington used would serve him well enough. He gathered his things from the trunk and locked it just as she took a step onto the grass - the gravel path would be unpleasant on her bare feet.

"Oh, what a shame for the children.." she muttered. Her skin had that strange cast from earlier, luminescent as though glowing snowflakes danced just under the surface. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, the full bow of her mouth pouting, "I cannot stay here," Wes adjusted the bag he had slung over one shoulder in his subconscious manner he picked up at private school, but she continued before he could ask, "...Unless you remove the corpse.."

He blinked twice, then dropped his belongings and strode over. He almost stretched out a hand and thought better of it, "Believe me, this house belonged to a wholesome family before a policeman came and moved in. There's nothing unsavoury, this is a good neighbourhood,"

His hand twitched involuntarily as her large eyes filled with dew stuck in the corners; spreading under her lids until she shut them. From beneath the dark, curling petals moisture trembled but did not fall, "Benji is dead.." she muttered.

Wes was stumped; until he recalled the ageing golden retriever that still managed some days to hunker itself down the driveway of his neighbours house to sit and receive petting from the mailman. Benji had been unwell for a while and the father had spoken twice with him over the fence regarding vet bills or the worry he felt for his two girls and their attachment to him.

"I'd...I'd better go tell them, then.." he muttered. It was hardly going to help a situation as delicate as this one if the bad news came from a stranger.

She nodded, rubbing a little at one of her wrists as she anchored her hands against her stomach. Did she feel sick? Or was it a nervous gesture? "He crawled under your porch to pass. Animals are simple..so I could sense him as soon as I left the car - but" she explained and faltered. A fleeting crack of vulnerability, which was promptly smoothed over, "-Before. He said goodbye..he went into each of their rooms last night as they slept..b-before he broke out,"

Wes had also been up early that morning, and left in a hurry so Richman couldn't have asked him if he had seen Benji, "Well.." he rubbed the nape of his neck, "I guess I should go over there and give the bad news.."

"Shall I?" she offered, and he was surprised for the hundredth time that day, "I'm sure that I'm...just as experienced when it comes to announcing death as you.." her voice trailed off, she seemed to have more difficulty with this than at the site of Abigail's death earlier.

"No, no. I'm a friend of theirs.." He lied. Although they exchanged pleasantries often enough and he had been invited round for pot roast when he first joined the neighbourhood, they shared little time together since.

"Here," he threw his keys to her and she caught them despite her mind clearly being elsewhere. He watched her open the door and the same black cat from earlier appeared from behind a large plant-pot. He continued to watch her retreat into the shadows of the foyer with the cat following behind her, and then the door slammed shut. Miss. Eerie, indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the store not being more than a ten minute drive away, Wes purposefully chose the more larger franchise a few streets over. He told himself he wasn't scared to return to his own house, but even playing Stamitz didn't improve his mood. His neighbour had been dismayed by the news and feeling the slack bones shift beneath his beloved pets fur as they removed the body had disturbed him.

Wes had been initially glad to go out and get some things for Miss. Eerie just for some space to clear his head. Now staring at the toiletry aisle he realised he needn't have wasted the time driving to a store further away, because now he was stood agonising over what new items he would need for a guest - a female one at that!

The minutes slipped by as he ground his teeth in frustration at his pitiful collection of toothpaste, green tea and perfumed soap. He grabbed a bottle of his usual shampoo, cursing himself for not being forefront enough to ask her what belongings she already had.

To distract himself, he chose the food he usually would for himself first. Eggs, bread and butter, sugar, milk and bacon. Pizzas with varied toppings, steaks and tuna then a big bag of oven-fries that could be eaten with either. Sausages, potatoes and after a moments reflection - cat food. He got rice and vegetable soup for her although Miss. Eerie said she only ate the former.

Raised in wealth with servants who did everything except physically spoon food into your mouth, Wes could only cook simple meals. He took some bags of pasta from the shelves and further time inspecting each pre-cooked chicken until he found the largest of them. After a few packets of noodles and running back when he had forgotten toilet paper and fruit, he thought he was finished with the. basics. And now, to more less easily finished items...

In the worst of his throes he cornered a terrified female store clerk, who took in his stressfully dishevelled appearance with the training one would expect. She must have seen humiliated and confused men buying gifts many times before.

"So, you have your toiletries.." she concluded minutes later, as he averted his eyes from something labelled to do with womanly problems.

"I-I think that's all that I need now-" he tried to evade before he was told he needed to purchase anything more terrifyingly feminine, clutching the steadily further weighing bag.

"Oh, no!" She shook her head, quite in her own personal heaven with him dutifully hounding her around the shelves, "You mentioned your guest is staying for an indeterminate amount of time when you picked a toothbrush, have you even thought about clothes?"

"No, really. I, er..." Wes was suddenly conscious of his credit card in his wallet, it was beginning to burn as much as the ache in his arms from the things he was already buying.

"So, what colours does she like?" Despite her helpful directing, Wes refused to admit that he had stared at her for long enough to notice what she was wearing. Somehow she had managed to glean something informative and gave him a delicate-looking pair of black ballerina flats. He hoped that he had guessed her size correctly, because he didn't think he could humiliate himself further by returning again today to swap them for another size..maybe not until next week.

The clerk laughed as he blushed at having to describe Miss. Eerie's curves and measurements, until she handed him a few skirts and loose, black garments he had more of a inclination she just may like. He wasn't about to ring his own damn house phone to ask. "You must not know this person very well, sir. Now anyway, about her underwear..." she began to walk over to another rack, but Wes stood firm and almost dropped his bag.

"Sorry!" Wes was sure that his eyes matched the immature flush heating the entirety of his mortified expression. "I have to leave!" Wether he looked like a man about to vomit or not, he strode away towards the tills.

He lumped everything onto the conveyor belt with such force that the cashier sent him a venomous look, arranging through the haphazard things so she could scan them more easily. He exchanged no idle talk or the usual pleasantries until she asked how he was going to pay. He slid out his credit card with a sense of impending doom, and the helpful attendant from earlier ran over.

"You forgot these. Put them through - with my staff discount," she told the other girl, who shrugged. Confused, Wes glimpsed a scanty wisp of black lace, red ribbons and such before he jammed his card into the machine. He wordlessly paid and made it to his car before the girl behind the register came to return his forgotten credit card and receipt.

Once home he shut the door and dropped the shopping bags to the floor, leaning back against the wood with his eyes shut like a man who had just ran from a terrifying encounter. Not so close from the truth, he thought as he went through into the kitchen after picking the bags back up.

He put the food away, and reheated the kettle from earlier when he hadn't had the time to make tea. The cat came after a little while to sniff at what was left in the plastic bags and leered at him when he shooed it. Looking at his reflection in a spoon, he saw in the distorted image that he looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks.

The house was silent, so he guessed Miss. Eerie was asleep. He decided that he would let her rest longer before giving her the things, and that he would put the toiletries in the bathroom next. He grabbed the bag, and went upstairs. There were three rooms up here: his bedroom, a padlocked door, and the bathroom which he opened.

Warm steam clouded his vision and he threw his arm up. He caught a flash of a face hovering in the fog like a spirit. He was suddenly staring at a diminutive succubus, curves barely outlined in the thick, hot mist. She glared back at him with liquid, golden eyes that burned through the damp strands of her hair. The door slammed in his face, hitting the tip of his nose.


	5. Chapter 5

Wes was mowing the lawn. In fact he had been doing for an hour, and there was now very little grass remaining. The ugly stubble probably wouldn't regrow for weeks. If anybody had watched him repeat the same lines over and over, they'd suspect him of having had an aneurism.

In the midst of freshly hewn turf, he caught the scent of his own shampoo mixed with something sweet and floral. He paused the motor despite enjoying the methodical and mind numbing task of turning corners repeatedly.

Miss. Eerie was stood on the paving stones wearing the same clothes she had earlier. He had left the bag of new clothes outside her room, or more so dropped it in his haste. She held a glass of lemonade in her hand that he couldn't remember buying. Her wet hair curled like seaweed and she smelled like his shampoo - that was all he could think of.

She walked over and extended the glass, "Oh, well. Thank you.." He took a sip, then another when he found it was light and refreshing, better than something store-bought. It was more like the lemonade picked and crushed by his servants from his childhood, "You...made this? I didn't buy any juice.."

She nodded and he guessed that he had grabbed a handful of indeterminate fruit in his zombie-like trance. He hoped that he wouldn't be bringing lemons with his lunch to work everyday for the next week. She took out a cigarette she must have rolled earlier and lit it. Should he apologise for walking in on her accidentally earlier? Or was it just best to let the awkward issue rest? He didn't want her to think he was some kind of pervert!

"So, .." He leant his elbows on the rail of the mower before feeling foolish and standing straight again, not at ease with his own skin. He wondered if she had looked through the bag of clothes, and not liked them. Between interviewing distraught victims or bereaving females and the ones who greeted him in stores because they were paid to do so, Wes recently hadn't been forced into a normal conversation with a woman.

Her toe drew a circle and her chin dipped lower so that she appeared childlike. Despite her tiny height her sorrowful eyes made him guess she was only a year his junior, "As it stands, for now I am unable to pay you for the things you bought earlier..So, I won't be using them,"

"I, ah.." he took another sip from the glass as she took a deep drag of her cigarette "..Don't mention it. Harrington said to take care of you..and not using the stuff I bought..it's a waste.." he noticed the angle of her slumped shoulders sharpen as though he had offended her.

"T-Thank you...f-for thinking of me, as a woman.." He saw a blush stain the bridge of her nose and flag a bright red on her cheeks. He felt that his uncomfortably got face was similar, "..Y-You may continue to call me Misery.." she allowed, and edged backwards a little as though she were making to go back into the house.

That confused him, hadn't he been calling her Miss. Eerie all this time? Although she pronounced it differently. Reading his bewilderment, she explained, "Martin has earned the right to address me by my first name, Misery. Others may call me Miss. Death," Wes gaped. Misery Death, what low funded orphanage had so little spirits as to name her that?

He tried to grab at a question to keep her there, revealing her name had only thickened the sense of vulnerability that surrounded her. "..Is Death your given surname, or does it add to...whatever it is that you do?" he hoped his boldness wouldn't break the spider silk thread of connection between them. Was Misery Death a stage name, to fortify her act?

"Is Evans your surname?" She deflected. He frowned but guessed that he had asked for that. Regardless, it still irked him that she brazenly evaded his efforts of getting to know her better,

"..What I mean is..no offence but Death is an unusual last name.." She bristled. He assumed that he had offended her. Did she now think he considered her a trick performer who used smoke and mirrors to fake..necromantic powers? "I'm Wes" he clarified, in case she somehow didn't know. He shut his mouth before he could come across any stupider.

"Death is natural.." She replied before going back indoors, flicking the cigarette onto the floor outside.

Caught in the motion of going to turn the motor back on to clear the last of the unruly grass, Wes's mobile vibrated in his pocket. Ray from work flashed on the screen as he accepted the call, his cheeks still hot from his last conversation. It was Ray's break, otherwise he wouldn't have called except for an emergency. Which he would welcome right now as an excuse to get away from his house.

"Hey." He answered in a clipped voice and that was all he said, but Ray laughed at whatever he had heard in Wes's tone the albino himself hadn't picked up on.

"Called first chance I got..y'know Harrington is pushing me just as much as you.." Both men exchanged the sympathetic exhales of workers with heavy burdens, "I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight," he asked, causing Wes to immediately wonder what he was plotting, "Mariah accepts Miss. Death at the table more readily when the kids are out, so we hired a babysitter. Come around in half an hour or so, alright?"

Ray hung up without waiting for an answer, assuming that they would be there with that certainty but lack of arrogance he balanced and carried with him daily. The fact it was so easy to go along with the mans good natured ideals helped Wes become friends with him when he had moved here last year,.

When he first down through the streets, a place to rest some years and ease his shattered soul was all Wes had been seeking after the exile from his family - following the self-destruction of his musical career. A pleasant enough town which had everything one immediately needed within its tree fringed borders, it had a larger city with more advanced medical care and community entertainment just over an hours drive away.

Wes walked into the kitchen, "Miss. Death; I mean. Ah..." He froze. She had been cleaning the knife she used to peel the lemons with over the sink and turned after dropping it into the water. He noticed a thin trickle of blood as she looked down towards her hand, "You cut yourself.." he stated the obvious, grabbing a towel and passing it to her, "Here.." he pressed it into her wet hand when she looked as though she would rather not stain it.

He fumbled in the drawers to find the first aid kit he meant to keep moving into the bathroom and saw she had sat down, "It's only small!" she admonished when he found it and began fussing over the wound. He shouldn't have been surprised for her unflinching attitude towards injuries given her profession, but it contrasted with her delicate appearance.

"I surprised you - I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, it needs a bandaid to stop the bleeding.." he countered, peeling the cover off the plaster, the towel had wiped away most of the blood. It wasn't as bad as it looked; so he was relieved, "Harrington would skin me alive if anything were to happen to you.." He muttered. Her skin was remarkably smooth and his large well made hands covered her diminutive one. As soon as he registered that she yanked her hand free.

"It's the same colour as your eyes.." She whispered. He looked up at her sharply, but her gaze was as unwavering and clear as though she had said nothing. He broke the stare and looked away, tidying up the kit with no idea wether or not it was a compliment and if he should respond.

"My work colleague Ray has invited us over for dinner!" he remembered the reason he had come inside. She looked up from where she had been inspecting her accident, and he leaned against the opposite counter top with his palms either side of him to take his weight.

"How nice of him, Mariah doesn't usually like me around when they have the children.." she replied nonchalantly and he couldn't see a flicker of hurt he would have felt in that situation, "I'll get changed for the occasion," he listened until he could hear her footsteps downstairs. The cat meowed, from somewhere.

For the next few minutes, Wes busied himself, putting on a clean shirt as he made himself a strong coffee and attempted to tame the unruly spikes of his hair. He washed the cup and then brushed his unusually long teeth, rubbing his long, sinuous tongue gingerly at the sensation. He stopped fidgeting with his hair as he walked downstairs, noticing Misery stood in the foyer. She had changed into a black dress of jagged-cut wisps and the shoes he had purchased earlier.

"Oh, you're already done?" he asked, mildly surprised. All the women he had previously met took half an age to deem themselves fit for public despite any event, and she polished up pretty in less than five minutes. Her hair was fully dry and fell down like ink to her narrow shoulders as she turned towards the door.

"Yes, are you not?" She struck back, and he shook his head and opened the door for her to pass through. It seemed as though his every word offended her and yet a moment later she forgave it. He repeated the process before getting into the car himself.

With Cannabich piercing in the dusk, he ignored the the firefly glow of her cigarette and followed the beams of other taillights. Soon afterwards, he parked up smoothly in the space behind Ray's tasteless but practical family-van. The curtains were loosely drawn but the light streamed from between the cracks as they made their way to the door.

He knocked, and she folded her hands together as they waited. It was in that tiny space of those few seconds that he blurted: "I'm-sorry-that-I-accidentally-caught-you-after-your-shower-earlier!" With such force it scalded his lips and burned his nose pink.

There was a moment of silence, which stretched on - growing more excruciating for him with every second that passed. Voices began to murmur as someone neared the door to greet them. Misery's face of what he could see from her resolute gaze at the ground held no feeling.

"It was an accident, just like the cut. The human flesh is just a host for it's spirit, after all.." she finally replied. The jangle of a key being fitted into the lock punctuated before she causally added, "Although that was the first time I have been seen naked by a man.."

Ray opened the door in time to see his friend cascade to the floor in a uncontrollable fountain of blood, with the woman softly giggling as she covered her mouth with her hand. The wind-chime sound seeped through her fingers. "Wes, Miss Death..." he stared down at the groggy albino. He hefted him upright, then dusted himself down as well as he could, "Please.." he attempted a smile, "Come in.."

Ray led them by a haphazard pile of discarded children's shoes into the hallway. Murals of scribbled crayon ran at knee height along one wall. They were swept into the dining room and then ushered to the set table, the door closing behind them with an air of finality.

"Take a seat," Wes noticed Ray was being a little more restrained than his usually jovial, carefree way. He held out a chair, she sat into it and he pushed it in for her before taking the one beside it, "I'll just go help Mariah finish up.." he left the room through another door which led elsewhere.

They sat in silence and viewed the waiting napkins and table cloth, polished silverware gleaming and ready. Not for the first time, Wes wondered about his friends true intentions in inviting them both, especially when it seemed Misery was barely welcome. Ray and his wife returned from the kitchen, heralded the scent of food coming from the steaming dish in her hands, "Wes! How lovely to see you," the brunette cooed, "Hello again, Miss. Death," she added a little frostily.

She set the plate on the table as Ray filled the glasses and Wes was not disappointed at the sight of a well roasted joint of beef. She made several trips until the table was edged with bowls of potatoes and other vegetables. Ray sat down with a jug of gravy in one hand and a plate of plain rice in the other. He slid it across rather of passing it - like a man feeding a live, venomous snake.

"Thank you," Miss. Death replied as she made no motion to touch it, politely waiting as Mariah carved the meat; although she visibly cringed a little further away from Wes as a slice was passed over to him.

Everything set and gravy poured, Mariah gave a small prayer that the other female occupant of the room ignored and endured with a slack expression and open eyes above her folded arms. If the hostess noticed, she said nothing and they began to eat. The atmosphere was tense and all of Ray's jokes fell flat.

"So, ah. Miss. Death.." Mariah seemed to have the same uncertainty of uttering her surname aloud as everybody else did, "...It's such a shame that after so much time you've had to return here for bad reasons.." her voice was bright and brittle like fairy-lights, her voice falsely impassioned. Ray glanced warily at Wes over their meals.

"There would be no other reason for me to come back here.." she replied as she nudged some of the grains around with her fork, and it was impossible to tell from her tone wether she was being hostile or sarcastic.

"The vegetable based lasagne you brought us last time was lovely," Mariah tried to continue as she finished off her plate. She was a woman who enjoying heaping food upon others and leaving less for herself, instead fattening herself on the gratitude of those she fed, "-You must give me the recipe,"

"I can't recall seeing you eat any of it.." Misery replied as she ate the last of the rice, and Wes loudly dropped his fork against the plate. He diverted attention from himself by taking a sip of wine.

"Oh, no..We stored it in the fridge and ate it later. Even the kids enjoyed it.." Mariah rectified hastily and stood up, "Ray..could you help me with the dishes?" she visibly squirmed, and her husband rushed to finish his meal before rising to assist her. Wes guessed she was a little affronted at Misery's rudeness in the face of her charitable invitation.

"Where's the bathroom?" Misery asked in an unconcerned voice, once they had gone. He gave her simple enough directions from his time here at the house on previous visits and the worst dinner guest since time began left.

Wes rested his jaw on the heel of his hand and took toying sips from his glass with the other, wondering why Mariah had changed her attitude so suddenly and what had caused her disapproval in the first place. Ray peeked his head through the door, the rest of him following suit as he shut it behind him once he saw his friend was alone in the room.

He took the seat back in front of him, and immediately grabbed the discarded salt shaker in his fingers to fiddle with it. Wes thought that was unusual of him - it showed traits of a man unwilling to approach a tender subject, "Miss. Death has gone upstairs, has she?" he asked thickly, and the albino nodded, "Harrington would have a fit if he knew that I had any other reason than being a good neighbour for inviting you over tonight..but I'll admit that I had some ulterior motives.."

"I had no idea.." Wes replied sarcastically and mockingly rose one brow as he leant back in his chair, "Those are some top acting skills," he drained his glass, sensing he'd fortifying.

Ray rolled his eyes, "Well, we can't all be great performers like you.." The two men froze and stared at each other. There was a creak of plumbing upstairs and Mariah was either noisily washing the dishes or throwing them around the kitchen. Broaching Wes's past was enough to make him realise they were straying into serious waters. Ray was the only man in the office who knew of his abandoned former profession.

The bushy haired man gave a sigh and scratched his stumbled chin, "Look, listen. You're a good guy and Harrington doesn't want to scare you off and lose you over some creepy bullshit.." He trailed off. Wes had adopted his best 'don't shit in front of me, bake it and tell me to eat the cake' expression, it had gotten his way in the past and sometimes dampened even Harrington's famous volcanic tempers.

The two sat in silence until Wes begrudgingly folded his arms and coughed out, "Go on,"

"..She finds bodies.." He divulged in a low voice, "Corpses.." he corrected, "She can see the way that the person died.." he laid his palms flat down on the surface, speaking quietly he continued "I'm sure you found out earlier.." He shook his head, "I wouldn't have believed it..Had I not seen her help us out substantially in the past,"

Wes blankly stared at him. He wanted to know more but he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, "Abigail..." he muttered.

Ray spoke more hurriedly, "She's some specially assigned Seer from Death City, in Nevada. I think her family is influential. Came quite a way up here...and then he made me file all that damn paperwork!" he slapped his knee as the door opened and the woman herself stepped inwards. The albino felt every nerve in his body scream as he listened to his friend. Death City..there could only be one place named that..

Rather than take her seat, she remained stood by the wall. Wes took that as their cue to leave which he was willing to take although Mariah hadn't offered either of them coffee yet. His head was such a whirl he wasn't sure if he could even drive. The niggling reminder of her hometown irked him.

"We should be going, thanks Ray." Wes normally would have shaken his hand, but instead he just shrugged on his jacket, "Tell Mariah the meal was great, I'll come by some time again soon to say hello to the kids,"

Needless to say aloud, he would be alone. His friend gave him a noncommittal answer with a worried and weary expression as he stayed seated, instead of showing them the door. Far from being offended or even aware of the change in the atmosphere, Misery arranged the folds of her coat coyly, like some Victorian china doll, "Thank you for the meal and conversation.." her voice was hollow and it sounded oddly forced. She walked out and Wes caught a naked glimpse of unguarded revulsion.

Wes followed, and she was already inside the car by the time he had shut the door behind him. His breath huffed out clouds into the chilly night as the first of the stars glimmered; they shone clearly here in the unpolluted skies. He folded himself in behind the wheel and they almost made the journey in stony silence. He made the turn into his street and just had to spit out, the words pushing through the barrier of his fangs: "Why were you so rude? You've met them before, and Ray is a friend of mine!" It came out rougher than he intended, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles bleached. She hadn't lit a cigarette yet.

She didn't reply until he had pulled up outside his house, "..Mariah.." She rummaged in her bag for a handkerchief, and brought it to her nose. He realised her eyes streamed as though she had been cutting onions. She had been enduring it wordlessly whilst he drove, and he didn't know what to make of that, "She smells.." her words came out thickly yet reedy, a child's pitiful whine. His angry and shocked response was drowned by the sound of her sneeze, "..She had an abortion recently, I-I can.." She shook her head and abruptly left the car.

Shocked, he stayed sat inside the Mustang. He stared at the stars and red glow of his eyes on the windshield without really seeing them. Finally he opened the door and heaved himself out, almost forgetting his keys. He swooped back inside to get them and joined her on the porch, unlocking the house door. He walked inside first, and held it open for her.

He didn't know what to say, and she didn't have any inclination to look him in the eye. Further explanation wasn't needed, and Wes wasn't sure how to smooth over the mess he had made. She swept by him without glancing his direction once. He heard soles and paws run noisily upstairs as he closed the door, his bedroom door loudly slammed shut seconds afterwards.

Wes went to open another bottle of wine.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late, but Wes couldn't sleep on the damn uncomfortable couch. It seemed more of a torture device for anyone doing anything other than sitting on it upright for a few hours. A man his size trying to fit on this it was ridiculous! At two am the cat had joined him and slept on the floor adjacent to his head. It curled up tight as a fiddlehead, bathed in the light of the television that he had muted.

Two empty wine bottles rested on the coffee table, but his head swam with concern more than the tart alcohol. The petty concerns such as living with a woman could wait, and he found he could even somehow push the worry of wether or not Ray knew about Mariah's abortion aside. What he wrestled with was remembering how naturally sick he felt at seeing the dead girls tortured body - and how awful it must have been for Misery to see how it happened.

Wes himself had felt woozy after seeing the corpses of the first two girls and ran out of the building with just enough time before he collapsed, retching. It wasn't one of his finer moments and he didn't relish potentially reliving the experience when he took Misery to see them. It could all wait for a few more hours.

For those next hours, the albino had obsessed over the mystery that was Misery. His thoughts soured as he admitted to himself that growing up in Death City, it was likely she may have heard of his younger brother or even met him. Having his past creep up and collide unexpectedly with his present was not something Wes felt equipped to deal with.

With a groan, Wes dragged himself to the kitchen to pour himself another glass of the homemade lemonade. He had covered the jug with cling film and placed it to chill in the fridge earlier. He drained it and then checked his watch. Five am.

It had been so many years since a woman spent the night that even with several rooms between them he was so nervous he couldn't sleep. He had to be in work in three hours and he was probably going to be hungover...shit, he put the glass in the sink and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Today had made him feel exhausted and immeasurably old - when was it going to end and just be over with already?!

As he walked back into the living room he heard the sound of muted talking from upstairs. Confused, he came to the foot of his stairs and rested his hand on the banister. Who could be calling her at this time? Wait - she didn't seem like the type who would own a phone. As her temporarily primary landlord and joint partner on the investigation he naturally would have been given any contact information..

Talking in her sleep could be an option..he mounted the stairs until he was outside of his bedroom. Curiosity ignored the voice at the back of his mind warning him that he should button up his shirt. He had loosened it to cool down his chest before he tried and failed to sleep. The voice was much clearer now, and the person to whom it belonged was slurred but distinguishable. He thought about looking through the keyhole but what sort of pervert would that make him out to be should he get caught and misinterpreted, enough of one to lose his job?

"I'm sorry, I promise that I'll help you.." Misery pleaded. He coughed loudly and rapped on the door softly, he heard a groan and the noise of covers rustling as the mattress squeaked with the efforts of her turning, "I'll help all of you.." she trailed off, sniffling. It was impossible to tell if she was awake or not. He waited for a few more minutes and was met with silence punctuated only by his own heavy breathing. It seemed like he wasn't the only one who was troubled.

"Mrrp?" The cat hummed from behind him. The albino leapt into the air and clapped his hand over the shriek he had been about to scream. He glared at the accused creature as the devious animal stared back at him reproachfully. It sauntered in front of his bedroom door and lay down, stretching itself out to its full length.

Wes shook his head at it and returned back downstairs, determined to grab what scant few hours of cherished sleep that he could before work.


	7. Chapter 7

Wes woke up two hours later with a throbbing headache and a bad taste in his mouth. He tried to stretch and succeeded in pulling the painful cramp that had set into his shoulder as he slept, a feat accomplished by folding his body up like origami. Wondering if sleeping on the floor would be a better option tonight, the albino heaved himself up off the couch and leaned himself on the armrest with one hand.

The television was switched off though he didn't remember doing so before he eventually fell asleep and some burnt stubs lay in a mug on the coffee table. The room was mercifully empty, something he was happy about because he felt uncomfortable with the idea of her seeing him unguarded. He scowled at the empty wine bottles and noticed a small piece of paper resting next to them.

He hadn't received a letter in a while, not since the declarations of love sent by his more enamoured female fans of his musical days. Sticky notes reminding him of deadlines and bills that came in the mail were hardly a cause for excitement.

He picked it up and read the impeccably neat, gently sloping handwriting. The note wasn't anything special as it turned out, just an explanation for her absence. Wes felt a little put-out but couldn't bring himself to crumple up the paper. If they were going to talk about last night, she wouldn't do it in a note anyway. She didn't seem the type.

He pocketed the note in the clothes he wore yesterday and had ended up sleeping in. As he went upstairs he realised that she must have seen him sleeping when she put the note on the coffee desk..Great. He dragged the back of his hand across his fangs, hoping he didn't still have that unpleasant habit of drooling in his sleep that he and his brother shared.

A damp towel indicated Misery had showered and the bed was neatly made. The clothes had been folded away out of sight and he noticed the contents of the discarded plastic bag of toiletries he had completely forgotten about were now conveniently located about the bathroom. The minor but somehow significant changes bothered him more than they ought to, because it made it seem like he was truly living with another person, no...another woman, now.

He took a long shower himself to relieve the cramp in his neck from that godforsaken couch and found himself taking a little more care than usually would have when shaving. After brushing his teeth he dressed in a grey suit and looped a different coloured tie to yesterday around his neck once he dressed. He smartly tucking in his shirt as he raced downstairs.

He had forgotten to clean his boots last night, but they looked suspiciously freshly polished. Frowning as he slipped them on and checked his watch, he realised despite the effort wasted on his appearance he had just enough time to open a tin of the cat food he had bought yesterday.

He paced into the kitchen and took out a bowl from the cupboard, filling it with the peace offering. The cat wound eights around his ankles, meowing incessantly. As he bent to put the bowl on the floor his back throbbed unpleasantly. Although it may have been a different brand than it was used to it dived in eagerly enough with the rabid enthusiasm of an animal that hadn't been fed in months. He gathered it was happy enough with the flavour and even tickled the cat on the back of the neck before looking into the fridge.

He had regrettably drank the rest of the lemonade last night, so the regular coffee at work would have to do. He didn't have the time to do drive by and pick up a cup. He noticed something out of place and grabbed an unfamiliar foil wrapped package, sniffing it to check that it wasn't out of date. Unknown contents but good enough, he slammed the fridge door shut and put it into his bag, before grabbing his keys to do his best to get in work on time.

He drove to work like a madman but stayed within the speeding limit, all but running through the station doors, "Someone isn't happy with you," he heard as the doors swung shut behind him.

That was not the welcome that Wes liked to receive the moment he saw Charlie. The man spoke over his shoulder as he held the phone to his chest to deafen whoever was on the other end of the line.

The albino rolled his eyes in response and continued walking, pushing his way past an arguing couple and one solemn looking child between them. The young boy seemed to be the object of both ignorance and the reason for their harsh words which echoed off the ceiling.

"Excuse me," he muttered, "Keep it down, please.." The man briefly eyed him from head to toe and sneered at him, then noticed the badge on his chest. His eyes strayed down to the gun notched onto his hip, and he nodded mutely.

Wes nodded and went through into the office; Ray must have been out on patrol already. Good, he wasn't entirely sure he could strike up a normal conversation with his friend after hearing about Mariah. He sat down at his desk and noticed everybody was avoiding direct eye-contact with him. Well that was just great.

Resolving to bury himself in his workload, he had barely registered the increase of paperwork on his desk before Harrington had called his name. Even better. With all of the enjoyment of an unstable alcoholic handcuffed at a wine tasting party he dragged himself over. Misery steadily filled a spare mug with cigarette-ends and sat in Harrington's only spare chair aside from his own. He remained standing, trying not to weave unsteadily or appear hungover in any other way.

"So you're finally here, Misery arrived before you.." Harrington looked up from the papers strewn across his desk, many ringed in angry red pen. Wes also felt an idiot thrice-over for misinterpreting her name. Evidently the attempts of compliments of yesterday had now been discarded and his Boss was back to being an unreasonable asshole.

"Gmmrn.." The black and white haired woman whispered, a keen interest in contemplating her cigarette. It could have been a greeting or a warning to go away. He couldn't see her expression from the direction that she was sat in.

"She came back here prior to dropping off flowers at the house of Abigail's parents.." Harrington pushed some papers to one side and dragged across a purple folder. Wes stifled a sigh, "I had one of my men who were actually in the building on time escort her," The beet-nosed man briefly skimmed through the folder before setting it aside. He grabbed a green envelope and glanced up at Misery before opening it, "Thank you very much for your help yesterday.." He kept his eyes on the letter he unfolded and pretended to read as he spoke.

She somehow managed to shrug off the praise with a flick of her cigarette. Ash fell into the cup, "Please give me the files and evidence you have and I'll see what we have to work with until I see the corpses." Harrington nodded his agreement and she stood up to walk over towards Wes's table. She wore the same Lolita-doll coat as she had to dinner last evening and it didn't reveal what was underneath.

Wes made a move to follow her before his superior stopped him with a raise of his hand, "Don't take these days off lightly - Keep that report updated,"

"It's on my desk," he responded, not giving away of anything he may be feeling.

The man steepled his fingers together, "Abigail Ploughman..even you should be familiar enough with her by now," he began in a grave voice that held no enthusiasm. She had been a cheer-leading type with a popular streak amongst the boys at her high school, and was the most recent teenager in the string of horrific murders, "Misery informed me the cause of death was a blunt object that was wielded with enough force that it broke Abigail's jaw and severed the lower half of her face entirely.." He kept his voice even, but his hands motioned that same restless way Ray's had last evening.

"I see. I'll change the report to reflect that," Wes strove himself to keep his voice even. Soon the media dogs hounding them would turn their puppet strings against the men failing to protect the town. Already there had been talk of temporarily closing the school, Ray's own kids had heard and were openly excited about it.

Harrington wriggled his computer mouse a little so that the ageing screen flickered back into life, it seemed more a method of distraction than anything "I think seeing some final moments could be chilling," he muttered, concluding their meeting.

Wes nodded, if only to show he had listened and arranged some new forms back into his briefcase before his nose led him back outside following a trail of smoke. He understood a little about Misery's rude attitude towards Mariah yesterday, enough to feel guilty for snapping at her about it when he didn't understand the extent of her powers. Having to sit through dinner sensing that - after being at Ploughman's murder site and finding Benji; it all had to be exhausting.

He found her stood next to his Mustang with a lot cigarette in one hand, and took the time to make a brief, apologetic call to the Ploughman parents to apologise for not speaking to them sooner and offer his condolences. After telling them the further proceedings and that someone would be in touch, he hung up and walked over. Before the recent mass of murders the town had been predictably quiet, so the cases of the tortured teenage girls had really shaken him up. He had to acknowledge that Misery must have seen some awful things that he hadn't.

"Any place you'd like me to drive you?" he asked, because aside from returning home and mulling over papers he had little else idea about what he could be doing. Maybe schedule an awareness meeting for an assembly at the school..although all the kids had heard already about what was happening by word of mouth and media coverage.

"Yes, actually..The morgue," he nodded and held out the door for her, as she slipped inside he closed it with a sense of vague familiarity.

They drove with a Vitali CD on until he opened the window for her to flick the dying end of her cigarette out, "I fed the cat this morning," he announced proudly as he took a sharp turn, "Use the damn seatbelt!" He finally snapped in afterthought. It felt good to say it after it had been bothering him every time she rode beside him without wearing it.

She obediently fastened it and he thought he saw a trace of that near-smile again. Half a second later he had to slam down hard onto the brake to avoid running a red light. He'd known her for just under two days and a woman's smile had never disarmed him like that before. It was looking more and more likely that she was going to be the death of him.


	8. Chapter 8

"I hope you haven't brought me here for some sort of twisted kicks you have.." Wes muttered as he locked the car door for the first time in a while. He walked over to where she stood in the shade of the morgue - a nondescript grey building.

"Of course not.." She replied tartly was he reached across and opened the heavy glass door for her. She swept past, bringing inside chilly air scented with his brand of shampoo. The door shut thickly behind them like a coffin lid, but neon overhead lighting provided a sickly fluorescent glow.

Wes surveyed that the interior couldn't possibly be any gloomier, crossing his hands over his suddenly vulnerable-feeling arms. He rubbed the exposed skin, a little antsy as they walked further into the building. He almost missed how the secretary failed to ask either of them to provide identification when Misery waltzed past the reception desk - not that many living visitors came by here.

He followed her through another door and was immediately overcome by that odd embalming, clinical scent. It stung his nostrils so he had to pinch between his brows. She had no similar response, just how she didn't seem to feel the cold. He was sure she must have noticed him flinching so for cover he asked; "Why did they let you just walk on in here?"

"Oh, I have friends here.." she answered, before catching sight of a man in a bloodstained surgical uniform. She ran over to him with more childish exuberance he had seen from her before, even skipping once or twice. Just like how she had effortlessly commandeered the unstable, volcanic atmosphere of his office, she also seemed completely at home in a place like this. He supposed being around death so close would either be a comfort for her or something irritating she had to block out like a headache.

"Who has friends in a morgue...?" He wondered aloud as he shivered again, once her attention was diverted with speaking to the man. After a moment he left, returning in fresh scrubs without a mask covering his chin. They bent their heads closer to talk in a conspiratorial way, which irked him a little. He wasn't used to feeling left a step behind. This was his case and he shouldn't be out of the loop!

Wes looked at the depressing posters on the wall. Then, when a few of the useless leaflets around provided less than entertaining he went to sit on the edge of a gurney with his elbows on his knees, wondering why he was here. Was he supposed to leave now he had drove her here, or stick around with her and the corpses all day?

He glanced over towards the two. Was it just the awful lighting in here that made her skin seem even paler? The man had slid out one of the slots which held preserved and uninspected bodies until they were later needed, so Wes looked away again. As a policeman he wasn't exactly unused to seeing corpses, but even the atmosphere of this place was making his stomach clench unpleasantly.

"You said he passed of heart failure?" He heard Misery ask. She passed her palm just above the dead mans chest. The man nodded, checking his clipboard, "A correct diagnosis," she agree and he made some notes. They repeated the process with more corpses until Wes came to realise she was helping to correctly diagnose what the people had died of to make the morgues work easier.

Moments the strident screech of another metal draw opening was followed by an even louder scream. Wes jerked his head up so quickly that he almost sprained his neck. He heard the man apologising profusely and so manoeuvred himself fully upright. Misery took a delicate step backwards before her ankle crumpled like china beneath her. All he had time to do was quickly pace across and catch her in his arms.

"I am SO..so sorry" the man spluttered, and Wes could see his face was clearly agonised. His own cheeks felt red, probably because he had her crushed against his chest like in some corny romance novel.

Aware that he couldn't stand around holding her and waiting until she woke up, he slumped her across a clean examination desk. The attendant wrung his hands, "I opened the wrong drawer and..." He drifted off.

Although he knew he would regret it, Wes stared into the open cabinet of the remains of Abigail Ploughman. Her silky black hair was tangled with blood from the trauma. The wound split not only her beauty pageant smile also but her entire jaw, in an open display to the benefits of private practice dentistry. He only just managed to turn his head over his arm to vomit; and a little splashed onto his upper sleeve.

He dialled Harrington on his cell and relayed the news with no uncertainty that he was going to get blamed for this mess somehow. However, once he hung up he reflected that his boss had actually taken the news better than Wes was, "Yes, yes. I'll tell her, right. Bye.." His irritated tone was all too distinct. Something annoyed him about the way Harrington had seemed unconcerned by Misery's fainting spell.

He pocketed his phone and paced back inside, not at ease with leaving her undefended in a creepy place like this. Once the initial cause of her fainting spell had been made clear, Harrington actually seemed relieved that Misery had come into the contact with Abigail's corpse; so that she might have greater details to the murder when she wrote up her report.

Wes's hand curled into a fist as he pushed the door aside. Misery still lay on her back like the same position he had laid her down in, but her head had lolled against her shoulder. With the streaked wisps of her hair tangling in her gently closed eyelashes, she looked like a porcelain doll.


	9. Chapter 9

Wes lumped the dirty shirt in with the rest of his laundry once he had quite literally put Misery to bed. The image of her swaddled in the sea of his blankets was once he felt would stay with him for quite some time. Moving her from his Mustang had been easy enough until her eyelashes fluttered once against his neck, which gave him a weird burst of heat in his chest. However, unlocking the door had been a difficult struggle when his mind was uncontrollably locked onto the image of him escorting a new bride over the threshold.

He heard the house-phone ring and ran shirtless to receive it, cursing whoever had chosen to call it rather than his mobile. A personal call was unlikely and unwelcome, but work would have known a more appropriate way to call him; so with that in mind he hurtled himself down the stairs. He swooped to catch it before the last ring dialled off, answering in a panted hurry. It was a stupid marketing employee, so he slammed the receiver back down.

He walked back upstairs and hesitated outside his bedroom door - could he quickly sneak in and out to grab a fresh shirt without waking Misery up? He weighed up the benefits of not being stood about half-nude against being bold enough to enter whilst she was sleeping.

He ran a hand backwards through his hair, still damp from his recent shower. He had brushed his teeth twice. It felt wrong that he still brushed his teeth in his own bathroom, lived within the same walls and ate his meals at the same table he always had, and yet at night had to return to that nightmare of a sofa again.

Expecting her to still be asleep, he knocked and waited to hear a response. A full minute dragged by before he tried again, only to be met with further silence. With the hesitance a soldier uses when crossing a mine-field, he creaked the door open and peeked his head inside. He frowned upon seeing nothing in his bed but an idle ball of black fur.

The cat purred and rubbed its paws into the mattress as he shut the door again, his forehead still wrinkled with confusion. He knocked on the bathroom door next; wondering if she had somehow snuck by him. No reply, again. With a sudden surge of panic, he paced over to the padlocked door and checked that it was still securely locked. It was, and relief doused over him like Novocain.

He jogged downstairs to survey the silent living room and similarly lifeless kitchen. He turned around to complete the full circuit again when he noticed the back door was ajar. He span back, ears twitching as they picked up a faint scratching from outside. Since she had fainted earlier, why was she not resting more? He checked his watch and guessed by now he should be writing up his report of the day, too.

He walked outside and found Misery sat in the grass, scribbling furiously in a notebook rested on her knees. With her head bent in a studious way and her two-toned hair scraped into a messy knot, the delicate nape of her neck was exposed. All the questions racing through his mind from earlier; the same ones he had been nursing over the last few hours, fled in an instant.

He coughed, and was startled when she looked up towards the source of the noise. She had taken off her coat at some point and he now saw she wore a cream jumper remarkably similar to one that he owned, large enough that it hung to her knees and the sleeves almost covered her hands.

Suddenly aware he was staring; he gave a great show of coughing into his hand. A quick half-smile assured him that she had known the moment he had been there. It did nothing to help his embarrassment.

"Are you here to talk to me about any insight I may have after what happened today?" She asked, her tone a little more forceful and a little accusatory than he thought the question warranted, "That's what Harrington asked you to do, right?"

"Well, uhm.." he grabbed onto that, because otherwise he didn't have an excuse for interrupting her. "..Yes," he looked away, across the fence to a couple of kids played on their beginners bikes - too young to be in school. After a moment, her eyes slid back onto the notepad and she began writing again.

He didn't have a pen or notepad on him. Figuring she was ignoring him, he turned to leave and heard the sound of paper tearing. When he turned back, she was holding the blank notebook and pen out towards him. He interpreted that as an unspoken consent to stay, and grabbed the objects from her.

He sat down a fair distance away from her and wrestled with how to delicately phrase his questions, writing down the time, date and what little details he knew of Miss Misery Death. "Well...were there any changes this time, when you.." he searched again for the correct word, "Sensed...saw, Abigail Ploughman's death?"

"Yes," she replied in a disinterested voice, "When I was at the place of the attack, I saw her clubbed to death by a tall, masculine figure with a blunt object.." She went on, though Wes's pen had frozen upon the page, "He used his right hand to bludgeon her repeatedly with the weapon. It was in a grassy, indistinguishable area which I recognised as the area you took me too," her unwavering tone continued, "Today, I was..inside the body of the recently deceased; surveying the attack through her eyes,"

He tried to disguise how shaken he felt, but the spasm of his hand betrayed his emotions. To hear the blunt and direct confirmation of her ability from her own mouth was astounding. "Why?" he asked, once he realised his mouth was hanging open, "Why did you see it that way - this time?"

"Oh, because I was in direct contact with the body. It makes for a stronger connection," she explained in the same dry tone. He stared at her, compelling and yet so obviously otherworldly - untouched by the gruesome sights that would turn most witnesses insane. The seconds trickled by and she stretched up to take the pen and notepad from him. His numb hands were failing to heed to his silent urgings.

"Abigail's vision was distorted with blood but I believe he may have been in his late thirties to early forties with dark hair," she speedily wrote down several lines as she spoke. He squinted, and saw she had mirrored each word. Something about the way she could multitask so quickly and easily was unnerving, "I don't know exactly why he chooses his victims..but one thing they have in common aside from gender is dark hair,"

"T-that.." He glanced away from her for the first time, choking on what he wanted to say but couldn't, "That must be hard..seeing things like that," he blurted out, just as awkward as he had been stood on Ray's porch last night. He yanked himself upright and awkwardly lurched back indoors before he could make a further fool of himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Wes's backache had become a constant companion over the last few weeks. The tension in his shoulders was from his irksome sleeping quarters and days spent bent over reports. Right now in fact, the albino was stood beside his bed stapling together the last of the paperwork that he had promised Harrington he would have driven over to him in hours ago.

He was tired, so exhausted of seeing those dead girls staring accusingly or hopelessly at him. But it seemed the unavenged faces burnt onto the inside of his eyelids. Although over a month had passed by and despite viewing the deaths of the other girls, Misery seemed no closer to identifying the killer. Some great detective.

Sighing audibly, Wes slid the report into a plastic wallet. He dropped it onto the bed and pulled his shirt over his head in preparation to change it for one suitable for work; his neck wrenching uncomfortably. The cat tilted its head sleepily and let out a throaty rumble in greeting, rolling over as though it wished it's tummy to be scratched.

It certainly never acted this way around him, so he glanced over his shoulder and spluttered when he saw Misery leant against the doorframe, dressed in a pale grey shirt he was certain was his. He tried to remember when it had gone missing from his closet.

"I-I'm changing!" he stammered, as though that wasn't obviously evident. He hadn't noticed her enter, something he had gotten used to over the last few weeks but was still mystified by. He was the one with police training, after all.

His mouth gaped open as she walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed to reach across the mattress. She began to lightly scratch the cat's fur as though he wasn't even there. Wes knew the upper-class women of the past had been repulsed by his genetic abnormality - that they had only been after him for his family wealth and musical talent..but was his body really so uninteresting to look at?

He checked his watch, still enough time to grab a quick bite to eat, "Harrington needs me in the office to give him this weeks final report before six.." He glanced back and his breath caught like a fish-hook in his throat.

She lay on her front with legs folded and fingers laced under her chin; breasts swelling up against the mattress, "..M-Misery?" he forced her name out as a question, entranced by how her hair stuck in strands to her narrow shoulders. Her golden eyes glinted through the dark rings of eyelashes.

She laid there staring in a resolute way that made him feel uncomfortable all over. There was nothing but curiosity in her yellow eyes - no feelings of lust or predatory assessment. He abandoned any further explanation for her behaviour for having the time to put on a fresh shirt. He flicked his eyes onto his watch again and saw he now had no time to pack himself even an easy lunch.

Misery cocked her head to one side and pulled herself up from the mattress. Her lower lip protruded, "The male body is much more interesting alive.." she decided, her voice nonchalant. He hoped he hadn't been staring at her too openly.

Without another word she left the room, and him with no idea what had been going on in her mind the last few minutes. Was that payback for when he had accidentally walked in the bathroom when she was inside? With precious time tickling by, Wes stood in his bedroom with a frown on his face and a million questions running through his head.

A diminutive hand pressed against his neck, making his entire body freeze. The white strands on the nape of his hairline rose as her fingertips caressed the sensitive skin,"Your back..does it hurt?" Misery whispered. She didn't sound concerned, just pondering.

Wes made a tiny noise in his throat - the only part of his body that felt capable of moving. Seconds passed by as the air substantially thickened. He felt the way he did in the moment when a lowlife he had cornered turned his gun upon him - only unlike in that situation, now he had no idea of how to act or respond.

She moved so he could feel the pressure of her front against his back. He flinched at the unexpectedly warmth from the proximity. He'd expected her body to be as cold as her attitude, "Maybe you should quit sleeping on that couch and come in the bed with me..." She suggested coyly.

Had he been of rational mind, Wes would have been suspicious of her errantly seductive behaviour. Any thought that she wasn't acting herself didn't cross his mind, "Mm, maybe..." he instead agreed. He sounded mechanic and zombie-like. Her touch drew a sigh from his mouth and his taunt frame relaxed, "That feels so good, Misery..."

"Someone hasn't been getting enough sleep at home, eh?"

The albino abruptly awoke when someone rudely threw something at him. It hit his head directly. With a grunt, he groggily pushed himself up on his elbows and blearily wiped his eyes. There was a folder lying in a haphazard way on his desk - the projectile, he guessed. He glanced around and noticed Ray grinning his way.

"Ray, you bastard..." he choked out, his vocal chords rusty. It was the first time they had spoken in a while, so Wes gave him the benefit of the doubt about his nasty awakening. What had he been dreaming about? He couldn't remember a thing. Even a glimpse evaded him, so he let the matter drop.

His friend gave Wes's exhausted appearance a once over and chuckled. He pushed his weight out from behind his desk and strolled over, putting a fresh cup of coffee down onto his desk. He inclined his head and Wes eagerly accepted it. Had it not been for Misery's merciless aura, he was sure every guy in the office would be teasing about what an effective team they made - the cop who vomited at the corpses of his first serious case and the woman who fainted at every crime scene.

"It's ten to eight," Ray commented, "I'm pretty sure if Harrington hadn't gone out on duty, you would be beaten to within an inch of your life for not doing your job and helping out Miss Death,"

Wes ran a hand over his hair, somehow not so eager to return home. Things had been odd for reasons he couldn't place a finger on before he left. He couldn't remember falling asleep at his desk until Ray's stationary hit him in the temple. He had also woken up with a hard on he hadn't experienced the likes of since he first hit puberty.

"Or could it be, you don't want to go home?" Wes let out an almost inaudible sigh and fixed his eyes exasperatedly on Ray, silently telling him to quit bothering him. He rubbed the back of his neck again, and the sore muscles flared.

Rummaging in his briefcase for some painkillers, his hand came into contact with a unfamiliar metallic product. He withdrew it and discovered the tin foil wrapping that he had grabbed from the fridge weeks ago. He had never found out what was inside. He hoped it was food, and still edible at that.

His fingers struggled to unpeeled each onion like layer but eventually a small pile of dirt was revealed. He lend back on the legs of his chair, exasperated. Someone had put soil in his fridge!? Or was this the final decomposition stages of some long forgotten meal?

Ray laughed at his expression and poked the lump with his finger, before touching the tip of his tongue to it. "Herbal tea with antiseptic or something.." He guessed once he had tasted it, "I think its the type that would relieve cramps or a hangover,"

Wes weakly raised his head from where it had slumped back onto the desk. He was willing to try anything to boost his flagging spirits a little. "Make me some," he pleaded.

Ray rolled his eyes as though in disbelief at what a baka his coworker was when he awoke. Nonetheless he went to the kitchen to comply, and Wes heard the tap running a moment later to fill the kettle. In less than a minute, the agony in his neck had intensified, "Feels like the growing pains I got as a kid.." He complained.

"So-" Ray whisked the mug aside before he could grab it, "It's still hot, idiot.." he muttered as Wes made another lunge towards the sweet smell. He couldn't believe had come from such a weird powder. "-We were talking about Miss Death.."

That certainly got his attention. He narrowed his eyes to focus through the stubborn pain in his back. "We were?" He suddenly realised the other men were busy at desks placed a fair distance away. Many of them were out on call and they had relative privacy for the conversation.

Ray nodded as if to urge him on, "I don't know why my wife dislikes Miss Death so much.." he shook his head and sighed, but the mention of Mariah spawned a horrible memory for Wes he had previously been actively avoiding thinking about. The abortion, did Ray know about it and had he been keeping it from him of all of time? It stung a little, he had thought they were closer as work buddies than that, he certainly sang his woes to him enough. Or was Ray the one being kept in the dark here?

Wes realised that Ray was expecting some kind of reply, so he mustered enough effort to shrug one shoulder. He regretted it immediately as his muscle shrieked in protest. Ray continued, "Miss Death can't stand hospitals and motels...doesn't like the smell of them, she says. So she stayed with us one time and even helped find Mariah's brother Lee when..."

Wes was lost. Stunned and confused, he slammed his palm on the table and a little of the tea spilt. It seemed a waste to ruin it before he had even wasted a sip, but he pulled out his chair with unnecessary force to leave. Without saying goodbye, he grabbed his briefcase and stormed out of the office.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey!" Wes called out as he closed the door behind him. He had found it unlocked, so he guessed that she was inside, "I'm back!" He shouted, feeling a little foolish when silence answered. He had the uncomfortable feeling of playing the leading role in which the actor returns home from work to his wife. This wasn't the first time he had experienced the feeling.

He ditched his briefcase and boots by the door before settling his hands on his hips as he regarded his home. There was a dull gleam of light from the stairway - he angled his head and saw the cat perched upon one step. It meowed loudly and sauntered into the kitchen in a clearly dismissive way. Shaking his head, he stopped and stiffened as a delicious scent laced the air. His nostrils flared and he followed his nose after the cat.

"Sorry that I'm so late.." The albino faltered as Misery turned away from the stove. She was wearing a navy shirt he was fairly confident was from his closet, under a classical apron that he had bought but never used. Again, he wondered why she never wore the clothes he had bought her and instead pilfered garments from his closet.

"You're late?" She questioned him, and he saw her lick a long, brown strand of something from the whisk. It smelt sweet, but he frustratingly couldn't place it. She waved the hand holding the whisk nonchalantly, "I thought I had started baking early.." She turned back to animatedly resume her task.

Enticed by the smell, Wes crept up behind her. But not too close. "You're baking?" he asked in a dumbfounded voice, "Why?" He managed a glimpse over her shoulder and saw she was stirring deep brown, melted chocolate. That explained the delicious, tormenting smell which only served to accentuate her natural scent.

He couldn't see her expression, but he could guess she rolled her eyes, "To celebrate," she explained.

Wes rose an eyebrow, "Celebrate what?" He wondered if there had been some news that due to his nap had missed his ears.

"You coming back home," she easily half-smiled, as if the very motion of it didn't make his heart skip a beat.

Hours later, the chocolate cake topped with strawberries had been so perfect that Wes's mouth still watered for more even after a third slice. Now he slumped in the armchair and zoned out watching mindless television, feeling full and comfortable. He knew he should be making greater headway with this case but he was distracted and the frustration of no new information only angered him anyway.

"How was your day?" Misery asked, perching on the edge of the couch on the seat furthest away from his chair. It didn't escape his attention that she avoided closing the distance between them, but it didn't offend him because he'd noticed she didn't enjoy being in near proximity with anybody else either.

He folded one leg over the other, "Same as yesterday," he drawled, purposely leaving out falling asleep and his discussion with Ray upon being rudely awakened. It reminded him that he still couldn't remember a single detail from the dream either. Maybe he simply hadn't dreamt at all.

Her silence pressed him to say more, but Wes wasn't much of a conversationalist. He had already complimented the cake she made. She had denied eating even a crumb herself, saying she didn't have a tooth for sweet things. In that case, did she just enjoyed baking?

Finally she asked, "Have you drank the tea I left for your neck-ache, yet?" He frowned with confusion, then remembered the sweet smelling tea Ray had made him from the doubtful looking powder he had luckily pilfered weeks ago.

"Oh, that.." He frowned as the strange feeling of warmth in his chest. She had put it aside for him? Why? "It was great, thanks. I feel much better now.." He lied. Why did he feel the urge to compulsively lie on the spot to her? Surely he could have easily admitted he hadn't had the time to taste any?

"I'm glad," she responded in a mildly irritated voice. It didn't sound like she meant it, "I made it myself," she stood up and walked out. He heard her footsteps go upstairs and the sound of his bedroom door closing. He suddenly felt guilty. She couldn't possibly know that he hadn't actually tried it, right?


	12. Chapter 12

Wes had been sat in that same spot ever since. He stared at the television, only once paying attention to the screen when a Dubourg documentary came on. Hours later, he worked out the cramps in his legs from sitting motionless and stood up.

Despite having taken no pain-killers or the tea he felt a little better, like the spongy texture of the cake had steadied him. He turned off the television and almost tripped over the cat in the ensuing darkness. He glanced out the window to see that night had fallen and a handful of stars had awakened in the sky.

He avoided the violent hissing as he apologised profusely, bumbling upstairs. Was Misery asleep? He whispered her name outside the closed bedroom door, then quietly knocked upon it.

"What?" He heard, and took that as his cue to start opening the door. He closed the crack immediately as he heard a muffled squeal. "I didn't mean I was ready for you to walk in!" She snapped and he heard a rustle of something being moved.

"Sorry!" He replied hastily. He frowned. He was already apologising before he had even set foot into the room! He scratched the back of his neck, shifted his weight from foot to foot and went through an entire range of anxious gestures.

"You can come in now," she called. A little tired of feeling like a stranger in his own home, Wes opened the door again and closed it behind him as he stopped inside. He walked across his bedroom, thankfully without banging his toes on anything. He made to sit on the edge of the bed and instead mindfully stood next to it, respecting her already flayed privacy.

"I need to speak to you," he announced, his fists clenching and uncurling nervously. He couldn't see much of Misery's expression in the gloom, but her silence urged him to continue. "...I didn't have a chance to drink the tea. I fell asleep at work and when I woke up it was too late to taste any," he shut up before he started to sprout nonsense and tilted his head downwards.

He didn't even know why he felt the need to apologise for such a tiny lie that was probably so unimportant anyway. She would just shrug off that he brought it up, and maybe even think it strange that he had made such a big fuss over nothing.

"Oh, I know.." She replied. Wes's head darted back up, his expression quizzical, "I noticed you rubbing your neck as you ate earlier," she explained. He was suddenly glad the room was dark because his cheeks were warming. Ray had been right when he had warned him that she was able to read body language easily, "But thank you for telling me.."

"Uh-no problem..well...I should leave you to your night, then," he excused himself and was halfway to the door when he heard:

"Could you bring me up a candle, please?" He wondered why she didn't just turn on the lamp resting atop the bedside table, but nodded.

"Sure," he vowed, although he wasn't entirely sure he even had some. He didn't remember buying any.

After rummaging through the kitchen drawers downstairs he found an unopened packet of small, white candles he had once bought when he moved in. Just in case of an electricity cut that so far had not occurred.

He bounded back up the stairs two steps at a time and presented them to her."Here," In the gloom he felt a soft touch brush against his hand. The lighter clicked and a pinprick of fire pierced the darkness. It took his eyes a moment to adjust.

He followed the candle until he heard it get set aside, and two candles later the room was lit with an amber glow. It reflected in the cats eyes which suddenly appeared so close to Wes's feet so that he almost yelped.

Misery was sat in his bed with her knees and the covers drawn up to her collarbones. From the slip of her shoulders still visible he saw she was wearing a white vest. Was that one of his, too? He remembered owning an identical piece of clothing. Her hair was delightfully mussed but she had dark circles under her eyes.

She brought something dark and wooden - a jewellery box? From her bag. He found it odd that she slept beside rather than have it on the floor, or hang on the back of a chair. He couldn't imagine sleeping around clutter was comfortable. She smoothly unlocked some hidden joints with her fingers to unslot the cube. It opened and spread into a chessboard.

"Do you play?" Misery asked. Wes hadn't played in years, but the tutors his parents hired had challenged him the game to sharpen his mind in his youth. He noticed she could speak after hours of silence as if they'd been in the midst of a conversation all along.

She tilted her head at him, waiting for his answer. "Yes," he replied, taking a spot on the mattress. She took a velvet pouch and untied the drawstrings, impending the wooden carved pieces.

She collected the black painted ones over to her side, and they set the positions in silence. Wes took the first move as white and pushed a pawn to his right forwards, to which she did the same. A few turns later was all it took to notice she was mimicking his moves exactly.

Just after he decided if she continued he would storm out at her mockery, her bishop was moved forwards to claim his castle. The same castle he had just been considering about pushing a few squares to the right.

Over the next few minutes he consecutively lost most of his lesser pieces. He had only moved an inch towards what seemed to be an impenetrable barrier of pawns protecting her King. When he took one of her bishops a brief smile unfurled over her face. She immediately reached over to repay the favour.

For the next hour they whittled down each other, until he lost count of the pawns scattered about his duvet. The candles burned down to nothing and more were lit. At some point, the cat padded into the room and curled up on the spare patch of bed. Wes instead watched with growing despair as Misery's Queen darted about to claim what little of his pieces remained, each move surgically precise.

They hadn't talked for a while, but Wes wanted to forge a stronger bond of trust between them. It looked like they would be working together a while due to how difficult this particular case was proving to close. Right now, he felt a fine thread of friendship flung out like spidersilk over the distance.

He regarded it best to not leap into the icy waters just yet without checking the depth of the pool first, "So aside from assisting the police..." he thought throwing a few compliments in there wouldn't hurt, "..You can make lemonade and headache medicine, bake a great dessert and can play a pretty good game of chess, too,"

As he stole her last knight from the board he tried a smile which any of the vapid leeches from his former life would have melted at. Misery removed one of the pawns he had left to protect his King without blinking. He hadn't even noticed her pieces had gotten that close. The cat rolled over and stretched out one hind-paw.

"Aren't those skills expected of a woman if she is to ever marry?" she quizzed him rhetorically. He could tell by her tone she didn't wish for an answer to it. He hadn't thought of it that way, mainly because he hadn't thought she would be interested in those things; but a good wife would be capable of cooking and entertaining her husband. He checked his watch and saw it was closer to two am that it should be, and rubbed his eyes.

The silence continued until only six of her pieces and four of his remained. The candlelight was soothing and he wished Corelli was playing gently in the background. Wes had slowly grown more comfortable, now lying stretched out across the foot of the bed on his side.

Misery had gradually leant over the chessboard and the bedcovers had fallen down to her waist. He recognised the uneven stitching around the hem, it had torn and he had stabbed himself in the thumb several times resewing it, "Why do you wear my clothes?" he asked, keeping his head upright by resting it in one hand. Her eyes didn't betray if she felt embarrassed by him pointing out the oddity.

"I prefer worn clothes..new ones are uncomfortable," she coyly diverted her eyes sideways like a shy animal, "It's like living in somebody else's shoes.." Despite the dim light, he caught the livid blush on her cheeks.

"How did you discover...that you can help people?" Wes broached carefully, as though trying to tame a wild thing.

She took his King in a checkmate he was confident even his aged scholars would have been unable to predict. She began to collect the pieces and he assisted her, guessing that was the end of the game. After a minute of stony silence she responded, "Why is the room opposite this one always kept locked?"

Wes recoiled back from where over time he had been subconsciously nearing the pillows as though he had peeled back the covers to discover a writhing, poisonous serpent. Though he was experienced with her piercing astuteness, he was almost physically thrown.

A million lies and excuses ran through his mind as he pushed himself off the bed. It gave a creak of protest and the cat meowed unhappily. Wordlessly, he left.


	13. Chapter 13

After a month, Misery had changed from a largely distant house guest to become just a part of the furniture as everything else in the house. Wes was now hardly ever surprised by her presence when she appeared unexpectedly - often unnervingly nearby to him. He enjoyed the company and conversation, but something about her still shook his confidence.

The woman was a minor inconvenience he skirted around and was recognisable mainly as the reason for his cramping neck. He had fallen into the routine of getting up ten minutes earlier on purpose so he wouldn't intrude on her bathroom time. After he had gotten himself presentable, he would always find her in either the kitchen or waiting in the foyer. On the better mornings, she made him breakfast and packed them both a bento-box.

This morning was no different. He walked into the kitchen and she was stood barefoot at the open backdoor. Dressed in the same lacy black dress that she had worn the first day that they met, her hair was unbound. In one hand she held a smouldering cigarette, a cup of coffee in the other.

"Good morning, Misery," he greeted.

To his delight there was a plate of bacon and eggs waiting on the table next to a steaming mug. He slid into a chair and looked around the kitchen. The frying pan was clean and stood to dry beside the sink. He noticed the apron was now slung over the back of one chair, and found he didn't much mind to changes to the room - it appeared more homely.

Wes eagerly forked strips of bacon into his mouth. It tasted great, considering it was cooked by somebody who didn't eat meat. As soon as he had scraped the plate clean she immediately whisked it out from under his nose as before he had chance to offer to wash it.

He glanced around again and noticed the foodbowl was full of cat biscuits, his boots were also clean. The likelihood of him doing these mundane household chores whilst asleep was unlikely. Also magic tidying fairies or cats who cleaned up were so far disproven to exist; so that left Misery. He wondered, how much sleep did she actually get and how much did she need?

She waited next to the front door as he clipped his gun into his belt and rubbed a smudge from his badge. He almost expected her to kiss him on the cheek in that wifely way when a married couple left for work. Instead he was treated with an empty doorway and the frustration that such comparisons had been crossing his mind too much recently.

Misery met him by the Mustang, puffing furiously on another cigarette. Wes hid a smile as he ushered her into the car and got into his own side. The odd woman was the most unmarriagable type he could imagine. Perhaps even someone who would grow older gracefully, surrounded by a shifting sea of cats.

He smiled a little at the image, which earned him a distrustful look before she opened the window so that she could blow smoke out of it. Turning out of the street, he noticed her take a CD from it's rigid plastic case. Vitali soon filtered throughout the car. It was the same album she had listened to when they drove to the morgue weeks ago.

"I like Vitali," she muttered almost inaudibly, her face hidden behind her hair to watch the scenery speeding by. That surprised him, she didn't seem capable of actually enjoying anything.

Wes rose his hands from the wheel to crack the knuckle in each finger. He got several satisfying pops and then he settled them back to steering with a groan, "My neck still hurts..I think all this coffee has made me overdo it with the milk - my bones are as tough as calcium carbonate," He thought he caught the corner of her mouth flick up.

Upon arriving, he repeated the puppetry of escorting her inside and holding out each door like a gentleman before her. A natural gentleman, Wes found that he didn't mind. There was something about the way she held herself that demanded decorum.

He couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive when Charlie looked at him like he'd caught a glimpse of a dead man. Wes was about to ask when the door on the other side of the reception opened and a familiarly disgruntled face appeared, "Evans, my desk. Now,"

Harrington noticed Misery peering out owlishly behind the albino. He contorted his angry expression into a smile with evident difficulty, "Misery, I didn't see you there. Please, come in and take a seat at my desk. I'll have someone make you tea,"

His eyes glanced sideways to pin murder on Wes, who had just enough time to follow them inside and grab his file from his briefcase, "Evans!" His colleagues necks disappearing into their collars like tortoises. He scurried over and offered the chair to Misery as though she wasn't entitled to it anyway.

Misery began speaking before his superior had seated himself comfortably. Wes snuck a brief glimpse around and saw Ray was out on call. He zoned out of the conversation, guessing she had more theories on the matter than he had.

The pile of papers she took from her bag and slid across the table a moment later served only to confirm his theory. To his dismay it seemed much thicker than his. They discussed it and Harrington flipped through nodding.

Wes began to chew idly on his thumb nail, which were growing at an alarming rate recently. All his nails had, as though they had just hit toe and finger puberty. His nail-clippers had broken that morning. He blamed a faulty product - so far only his fangs had managed to gnaw them off.

"Evans, your report?" Wes handed it over with just a lapse of a second he hoped wouldn't give away his diverted attention. Harrington was staring intently at him.

The albino suddenly noticed the proximity between himself and the occupied chair. Now he was aware of it could smell her sweet shampoo scent again. For a moment, his boss actually looked awkward. He shifted his bulk a little, as though his clothes were a size too small. In all fairness to his girth it could have been the case.

Wes hurriedly corrected his posture and became fixated with his tie, which seemed to satisfy the other man enough. Misery pushed herself out of the chair, "Time for some more tea, I think," Harrington opened his mouth to call an idle hand to brew it, "I will make it myself, this time" she gently commanded as though to chide him, walking away. Harrington frowned as though troubled by the notion of something.

She seemed to gently sway as though she enjoyed the feel of the plush carpet beneath her toes. The policeman strove to make themselves look busy. Martin tried to shake his head but his neck was stiff with barely contained fury, "Aside from a vague description, you are no closer to finding the killer of the girls," He acidly spat through his clenched teeth.

"I've not exhausted all my leads yet," The albino defended. Harrington shrugged as though it hardly mattered, because the man was not yet behind bars.

"Coffee," The steaming mug was pressed into his hand before he was aware he had began to accept it. Misery reclaimed the chair and took a sip of her own cup, which held camomile tea.

"Huh?" He responded dumbly, staring at the steaming mug incredulously. The office was suddenly silent of tapping keyboards and even the phone chose that moment to stop ringing. Harrington's eyebrows disappeared up into his hairline with wordless awe.

From the reaction of his colleagues, Wes guessed that it was unusual for her to make a beverage for somebody else - maybe even the first time they'd witnessed her do it. He followed her lead and gulped some down, spluttering as over sweetened brew unexpectedly coated his tongue.

He choked and expected sugar to cough out from between his lips. Massaging his throat, he sent Misery a look of confused exasperation. She peeked over the rim of her cup, "Extra sugar. To make you sweeter," she half-smiled. It was the most human she had ever seemed to him.

The room couldn't have fallen more quiet if Abigail Ploughman's corpse had danced animatedly into the room. Donald; who had uttered only four words after having to arrest his own son for possession of illegal firearms last month, squawked: "Did she just tell a joke?"

Wes stormed to the kitchen and poured it down the sink. He washed out the mug and replaced it with water to cleanse his mouth. Afterwards he rubbed his lips against his sleeve cuff, frowning. When he got back to Harrington's desk, he was told she had been debriefed for the day and was waiting for him outside.

Annoyed at being left a step behind, he grabbed his briefcase and pushed the door open with his shoulder to rush out. It seemed easier than he thought, as though his shoulders were thicker or the door was flimsier.


	14. Chapter 14

"So, would you care to tell me our assignment for the day?" Wes accosted moodily. He threw himself into the front seat with theatrical tantrum and then felt stupid because he had no idea of where he was meant to be driving, "Because although I'm your partner in this case, I'm the last to hear about everything!"

"I clearly didn't put enough sugar in.." Misery bit back with as much force as he should have expected, given his rudeness. She rolled the Mustang window down and lit a cigarette, taking a deep inhale and scraping hair from her face before replying, "The morgue,"

His foul mood instantly disappeared like a cool breeze swept out the flames. His expression must have been curious about why they were going back there again, but she ignored him. He pulled out of the car park and halfway into the journey she responded, "I have other places to be on Friday. I would like the name of the killer before then"

She pressed Vitali on as though to drown out his sudden realisation she would be leaving. He had just gotten comfortable enough into thinking, for a moment again, that this was a permanent situation. The rest of the route was filled with strained silence and a song neither of them were listening to. They arrived, and he forced down all the questions he wanted to ask to say instead: "I thought this place made you ill?"

She got out of the Mustang and entered the building, without looking back once. He locked the car and quickly followed after her. If she was willing to risk fainting again, she must really want to put this town behind her. Inside, the secretary asked him to state his business. He pointed wildly to Misery's retreating back and then to his badge.

By the time he gained entrance and found the room she was in, Misery had already requested three bodies. He pushed his way through the double doors with ease and saw she was in conversation with a different man than the attendant who had been here three months ago.

He took a step forwards and stopped. He had caught a glimpse of blood and dark purple hair of the second victim. The staff withdrew and shielded Misery away from them both with a privacy curtain he pulled along the rail. Wes heard a body bag being unzipped.

The man sent Wes an unreadable look before hurrying back over to a waiting cadaver on the other side of the room. The albino fixed his star on the shadowy outline of Misery against the backdrop as she placed a hand above each corpse. He could discern nothing but a few hushed words.

He began to itch his hand, but quickly stopped after he noticed his nails had already scraped off the top surface of his skin. When had that happened? He had only been scratching a second...The train of thought was interrupted when Misery walked back out.

She had a light sheen of sweat on her brow which stuck a few grey strands to her forehead where they merged with the black. She rubbed her wrists as though they ached, "Take me to the convenience store, please," she declined his invitation of a glass of water.

Her tone held the same contained undercurrent of urgency echoed in her eyes despite she displayed none of the fainting reactions of yesterday. He almost couldn't tell if she had discovered anything new. The only other indication of her haste was her quick pace out of the building. Wes was left behind for a few seconds before he gathered his wits and followed.

During the drive, Misery was silent until she asked to borrow his mobile phone. He unclipped it and steered one handed for a moment as he passed it to her and she turned down the music.

"It's me," she stated when whoever she rang answered just after the first dial, and whoever was on the other line obviously instantly recognised her just from that. Wes doubted he would have had that effect on anybody anymore, though his name once had.

He recognised she was talking to Harrington, and wondered why she hadn't asked him to drop by the station first if it was so important she had to call, "Faust, I got your identification. Call Wes as soon as you bring up his records," she scowled, "I hope I don't have to mention I'll want that done immediately.."

Wes admired how Misery managed to take control of a situation, more so because to do so she had to pry it from the ferocious grip of Harrington first. He was also surprised that she had referred to him by his first name, the only time she had voiced his presence aloud, "You ID'd the perp?" He asked in amazement, skidding into a parked position.

He noticed she had started smoking directly after leaving the building and saw she no intention of stopping to do as she left the car without responding. She rolled another cigarette as she walked across the parking lot and lit it as the automatic double doors opened for her.

Wes slid his way through behind her and flashed his badge in the face of the agonised employee flustering at the breach on indoor smoking rules, as if that would do anything..

"You didn't strike me as the vain type," he joked lamely as she stopped to turn into an aisle of shelves filled with mirrors. She sent him a look that let him know whatever he had to say was wasted on her ears and he withered like a crushed flower.

She looked over a few before focusing on the largest. It had an elaborate gilded frame carved into painted golden knots. She shot Wes a judging glance, "This should be big enough...you're so damn tall.." she muttered almost to herself, "Come on, pick this up for me," she commanded somewhat impudently.

He struggled against gritting his teeth and calmed his rising temper, "Why would I need another?" he asked, although he obeyed and strained to heft it up onto his knee before securing it up against his chest with his firmly gripped palms. It seemed a lot lighter than it looked once he got around the troublesome shape, it must be made of crap. "There's one in the bathroom and inside my closet, remember?"

"Because this one is for both of us," she hissed as though she considered him a inhibitor for her precious time. Although her explanation only confused him more, her anger was enough to have him fumbling for his wallet as he struggled to the check out.

After much lumbering and muffled swearing Wes managed to manoeuvre the mirror so that it fit into his car. Then, he followed her instructions to drive them home. He turned on the CD player, but she explained she was waiting for a call and immediately turned it back off. It was a little tense as they waited for the imminent return call, so he was relieved when it rang.

One hand still on the wheel, he passed the phone straight over to her, "Misery. Yes? Yes I'd had a feeling you would say that.." She sighed, "I just wanted to be sure before I make the preparations.." From his peripherals, Wes saw she was frowning despite her level voice, "I shall call my father this evening and I will join you in the office late tomorrow. Do not contact me unless in a time of the direst need," she hung up immediately after issuing Harrington instructions.

She was so lost in thought that when her hands curled into fists she clenched his phone in her lap. Was she planning on meeting her family, and needed the better mirror to judge her appearance? Misery hadn't mentioned her family before, not that she spoke much about anything.

After a few more cigarettes, she left so fast he didn't have the time to remind her that she had his cell. He was left to heft the mirror alone into the house. Swearing that if he cracked the thing once then he would smash the entire contraption to the ground, Wes kicked the door shut with his foot behind him.

After pushing off his shoes with the opposing heel, he cursed that the cat had chosen now to show its affection for him as it walked up the stairs just in front of him. He was sure it did those things on purpose!

He brought it up into his room, unsure of where Misery would want it. He set it up against his wall and stood back with his hands on his hips to study the effect. That done, he took off his tie and belt before undoing a few buttons of the top of his collar, mindful that she was in the room.

"Is it good enough there?" he asked, hoping it would be so he could go make himself a coffee. Thankfully, she nodded from where she sat perched on the end of the bed.

Wes felt more than a little swamped at the situation, if they had the name of the guy why hadn't be been put out with the patrol or even received any word as to what he should do? Why hadn't he been informed about whatever was in Faust's records? His head throbbed with unasked questions.

She pushed herself off of the mattress and took the few short steps it was to reach his side, then passed him his phone. He pocketed it. Taking a thick marker pen that he hadn't realised she holding, Misery used her elaborate script to write '42 42 564' upon the reflective surface, "There.." She mumbled.

She took a step back to admire her handiwork, so she was beside him. They stared at the reflection of themselves stood next to each other in unblinking silence. He watched the mirror as her head turned to look at him - so he turned to look at her, too.

"What are the numbers for..." He muttered. This was the first time their eyes had met with undisguised staring on both of their parts. Usually, Misery always looked away or ducked her head. After a few seconds, that was exactly what she did; inclining her chin so the curtain of hair covered her expression.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, but he didn't have to shuffle down to hear her because she had risen onto the tips of her toes..

...her hands planted against his chest and a jolt ran through him at the contact, he stiffened-

- and she pushed them both with surprising force not into, but straight through, the mirror.


	15. Chapter 15

Wes had closed his eyes against a curious draft of cold air and opened them to a wide, pale blue landscape.

"Wha-?" he blurted dumbly, completely forgetting his composure. On instinct he went to his hip for his gun and remembered he'd removed his belt when they had...left his room? The albino span around, his red eyes widened.

He stood beneath an endlessly stretching azure sky, it was studded with clouds that rose high above and whispered around his feet. They moved quickly, and in any direction they wanted like smoke; they almost seemed more like ghosts than normal clouds. The ground beneath him was sandy, like a beach.

So Wes had fallen through the mirror..and now he was Wonderland.

"W-what the?!" He attempted again to voice his incredulity. He span back around to find Misery, who stood next to a door which was seemingly standing upright without a frame or wall. What the hell was this place, and why did she look so calm? In fact, it looked like she belonged here.. "W-what is this place? Where are we?"

For the first time, he could see she was as unsure of what to say as he was. That unnerved him more than the crosses he could see standing in the desert around them. His hanging mouth shut with such force two of his fangs pierced his lower lip. Why wasn't she answering any of his damn questions?!

Misery kept her head bowed, shadows and strands of hair covered her face aside from her chin. Her mouth was set in a grim line that foreshadowed trouble, "Come on.." She mumbled reluctantly, stretching out her hand.

Wes stared at it. Her hands were slender and she had painted the oval shaped nails black, like tiny seashells. The skin was almost white and couldn't see a single callus on them. He had no reason to take her hand, or trust her.

He frowned at her, and she continued staring at the sand with her palm outstretched. He wondered what the tiny lines criss-crossing it would say about her life and future if he could read them. The moment of indecision stretched on until she interlaced her slim fingers with his, pulling when even that didn't snap him from his daze.

At a plodding pace, Misery managed to drag him along by the hand. They passed underneath a fear eliciting tunnel of red guillotine shaped arches, and when he squinted Wes could see a wide grey platform just ahead.

Atop it was a bronze framed mirror, through which something long and black was surfacing. The emerging shadow looked menacing to say the least. She released his hand to leave him trailing like a lost puppy behind her. The albino gaped as she began to run towards the coalescing darkness with glee.

Not the best or most appropriate time for her to start acting like a little kid...he mused darkly.


	16. Chapter 16

"Father!" I shouted, galloping towards him with unparalleled glee as fast as my legs could take me. At Wes's awestruck expression I guessed that maybe I should have toned it down a little. Although I was painfully aware I should be reigning in my enthusiasm as we were visiting on official business, I had longed to see my Father recently.

My arms reached out and a large flat fingered glove like hand manifested to grip my side as I fell against his cloak, "Ah, my utsukushi Misery!" Shinigami-Sama welcomed with his usual joyful tone. It had taken me a little time to get used to his new mask and voice, but it was familiar to me now.

I wondered if Wes recognised my father and if he had put two and two together yet, however his soul remained suspicious but ignorant. His spiked soul was an icy blue, and clearly had no idea what was going on.

"I missed you.." I choked out, before anything else. As the elder sibling at twenty-two, I saw my father less than I wished and was reduced back to a child in his arms whenever he held me in them, which was rare and so cherished.

"I missed you too, my dear Misery-musume! I wasn't expecting you until the party!" he patted my Sanzu line fondly.

The Foundation Day Eve party was held by my father at the DMWA yearly to celebrate the official opening of Shibusen, although it was actually a day later than the event. As his daughter of course I was expected to attend.

"The reason that I'm here-" I got interrupted, as I often did in the face of his unparalleled enthusiasm. I quickly felt myself losing what little control I had over the situation already.

"Oh, Sou-!" My father paused a moment, and the empty circles in his skull shaped mask crinkled as his brow furrowed. He was staring at the ailing albino lagging up the steps to the podium, "..Your friend looks like one of my younger students.." He hummed, "Who is this man, Misery?" His hand clasped a little more protectively.

I shook him off to walk over to Wes and laced my arm with his. It felt strong and warm against mine; but his entire body shook. Was my Father really that scary? I guess growing up with him had made me immune to his more creepier aspects. He was a lot less frightening now that his appearance was altered into a more cartoonish form and acting eccentric to appease his younger students.

The albino clenched my arm and I felt it press against his ribs a little. He was acting like this was the last place in the world that he wanted to be, "This is Wes Evans, I met him at one of the police stations through work. He's my partner on a current case.." I decided it would be best for Wes's sake to get the next part over as soon as possible, "Alsohe's potentially-my newweaponpartner," I revealed all in one breath.

Wes had no idea that he had sleeping weapon blood and that meeting me had caused it to awaken. Did I feel bad about it? Kind of. Wes frowned but before he could pepper me with accusations, he was dragged forwards by the huge cartoon-like hand.

"Oh, so nice to meet you Wes Evans!" His arm was pumped enthusiastically, "It's about time my precious musume settled down with a nice man and made me some grandchildren!" Lord Death laughed. We both blushed furiously and complained in unison that it was absolutely nothing like that.

Trust father, to typically assume I was here to announce I was to be wed. His own imagination often got the better of him, especially now he had been working with children the last century. Even the way his mask had changed to a more cuter appeal reflected that.

Wes was shooting me loaded glances heavy with unvoiced questions which I assumed he would assault me with later. That thought made me sigh a little, because after this I would long for nothing more than a warm mattress and cup of tea with the cat a slight weight curled up against my side.

Recently, Wes had been much more forthright regarding his questioning and I continued to enjoy playfully evading them. Maybe when I had rested from this unscheduled visit I would offer him a game of chess again, though I had bested him with ease last time. I had a feeling he'd be more interested in learning what the hell was going on, though.

"All in good time, Misery! I haven't seen you in such a long time, come have some tea with your Papa!" He chuckled. I hoped that he would believe my word enough to not bother checking with soul perception to see if me and Wes were resonating.

A table, cups and scalding tea-kettle appeared in mid-air. They hovered gently before arranging themselves. Wes paled visibly at my fathers easy use of his powers; but he was free to do as he liked - this was his dimension after all.

I knelt down opposite him and Wes followed suit as he always did. I reached across and took a sip of my tea. A grateful sigh that escaped my lips before I could stifle it. I felt the albino's surprise as I flushed behind my palm, but Father always had made the best tea.

"So, are you two living together?" Shinigami-Sama seemed to still be concentrating on his humiliating interpretation from earlier.

"Ummm.." I hedged. With my younger brother inheriting the greater of the Shinigami powers signified by his three sanzo lines, Father had been reluctant to let me leave home to use my gifted genes for good, "For now. But Father, really..."

"You didn't tell me," Wes spoke up for the first time. I slowly turned to face him. His profile was cast with doubt and his molten eyes were solemn, "..That the grim reaper was your father.." he fussed at his hair until it hung more tamed to just above the lower nape of his neck. I felt his soul stretch away from mine, just a little.

"Oh, but of course!" Lord Death chuckled, and I thanked my pale complexion for hiding how shaken I felt. Wes might not be taking this as well as I thought he might acclimatise to a sudden visit to Nevada. I supposed that my usual behaviour and meeting my father had overcome him. "She is deaths daughter after all,"

Shinigami-Sama reached across to tickle me under the chin with a gloved hand. Suddenly, the door beyond the guillotine arches opened. Three figures of alternating height strode through. I could sense their souls before began walking towards us and stiffened.

I could feel Wes staring at me but my eyes remained on the slight, black suited figure who made his way up the stairs with two fashionably dressed blonde girls behind him. I put down my cup after another sip, soul-perceptioning the two happy pink souls hugging the solemn red third squeezed in the middle between them. I wondered if me and Wes could ever be in unison like that.

"Kiddo-kun!" Father exclaimed. His soul of course was too large to visualise and trying to do so only left me with pale yellow sparks that danced behind my eyelids, "Both of my favourite children together with me after so long!" His shadow-arms extended to draw us both into a hug.

"We're your only children, Chichiue.." Kid replied dryly. Tired of indulging him for catching up on lost years, I jabbed with my elbows enough until he let out a disappointed but light hearted noise and relinquished his grasp on us both.

I stood up and hoped the process of dusting off my skirt would take concentration away from my blush. Across from me, Kid was displaying his typical no nonsense approach to any dirt or creases that may now be on his clothing.

"Hey, don't you kinda look like someone we know?" The taller blonde girl asked, pointing her finger at Wes, who reacted as though he had never seen her before in his life. I remembered her name was Liz. She was one of my brothers weapons.

I didn't know much about either her or her sister, because I'd been away for a lot of the time. She was pretty, and wore a red sleeveless turtleneck with denim jeans. The diamond buckle on her belt matched the rings glinting on her toes, exposed in sandals. Either Kid had dressed her or she had a good sense of fashion.

"Me? I'm officer Wes Evans," I almost felt bad for the permanent worry lines he would receive after just a few days with me, and decided to assist him a little. I felt glad he had also offered his occupation though, it made his visitation here seem less personal.

"We're here to see Father," I explained, "It's concerning a reinvoked spirit murdering young girls," I added, "But it is good to see you, Kid-ani," We finally made eye contact. In unison, we half-curved our mouths in our approximation of a smile. Afterwards, I nodded to the twins.

The shorter blonde twin grinned at me warmly. I was surprised the elder had spoken to any of us at all - she always struck me as a little cold, whereas Patty was more childlike in all her actions. Today as usual, they wore matching outfits that I knew Kid would have spent hours choosing and laid out for them. Everybody but family and close friends had always misunderstood and found it strange that he did that, but then again not many people knew of his mental illness.

"A spirit, Faust is dead?" Wes gawped.

Oh, had I been so busy preparing that I had forgotten to tell him that? I began to smile at the albino and only just stopped myself in time when I noticed the corner of my lip was twitching. My brother would humiliate me for the duration of my time here if he were to see that.

"Your stripe..it's still so unsymmetrical" Kid scoffed in an affectionate tone. He reached out an elfin hand - so similar to my own - and brushed my hair behind one ear. I ducked my chin coyly so that I wouldn't have to look up at him.

Despite the fact I'm the elder sister - my soul strengthened and detached from Shinigami-Sama's by the process of asexual mitosis of five years before him - he's a little taller than me. Also regardless of the age gap, we're identical twins. Don't ask me how Shinigami genetics work.

We share strikingly colourless features with delicately pointed chins. Our eyes are the same shape and shade. We're both slender, so Kid always appears a little effeminate when his lean muscles are covered by immaculately tailored suits. Stood side by side our twin like appearance has been called unsettling.

"Well, then..You shouldn't have stolen one of my sanzu lines.." I tousled his fringe because I knew it riled him and sat back down next to Wes, who looked as though he had been physically assaulted by all the news he was receiving. The male reaper made a noise like a drowning cat and began moving his hair.

My twin enjoyed acting the classical and dangerous embodiment of what it meant to be a Shinigami. He played the part well enough - but I still thought of him as the little boy with the sad yellow eyes I taught to pop skull-shaped balloons with plastic guns.

I half-smiled at Kid so that he would know I was only trying to annoy him further. I had been told that a previously overlooked natural defect had caused the Shinigami powers to not be shared evenly between us, and I held nothing against him for it.

I sipped the last of my cold tea and stole the one beside it when I saw Wes had left it untouched, "Father, it's been unexpectedly lovely to see you all but we are running out of time. I'm here to ask for your permission for me and Wes to..."

"Oh, you're getting married? You know, I'm friends with a guy who looks exactly like your boyfriend..." Liz interrupted. Patty began nodding towards Kid who glared at Wes with open suspicion. I resisted the urge to grab my brother and shake him by the lapels. I was also desperately aware of how much I needed a cigarette, but father disliked me smoking - as though it could kill me. Ha.

"We are not!" I hissed from clenched teeth. I was becoming a little tired of being the only blood related female in the room who could control them both, "I need to exorcise Faust, something disrupted his resting place and he's killed three more victims since rising already!" I pressed as much urgency into this matter as I could.

"I'm pretty involved with locating and destroying Kishin eggs right now...but I suppose I could lend you a hand, if you need it?" Kid rose one black eyebrow at me from under his striped fringe. He couldn't have been more mocking if he had winked, but his face was impassive.

"No!" I glared at him, taking his bait. I put down the tea once more and slammed one palm on the table, "Father! In order to cleanse the spirit I'll need your acceptance before I Soul Resonate properly with Wes!" I bowed my head to him, "I can't do this without a weapon.."

The albino was still staring at me, and I felt bad for largely ignoring him; but this was a process where it would be easier to drag him through clueless and explain to him later.

"Faust...I killed that insane experimentalist over two hundred years ago. I suppose that his spirit could be cranky if he's been woken up.." Lord Death scratched the shadowy mass at the back of his head. I sent him a look to please take this seriously.

"You know, the Soul Resonance isn't a technique you can turn on like a switch when you want it to.." Liz warned me in an icy voice, as though I wasn't already aware of that.

I frowned at her and began to stand, but Kid passed a wriggling sackcloth bag emblazoned with a skull to my father, "Even as a Shinigami it could alter you.." he explained, "There's the latest egg." I shivered and recoiled from the burning heat that came from it in angry, red waves. Wes of course sensed nothing but was chewing his lip worriedly as he darted glances between it and my reaction.

Shinigami-Sama stowed it away in the dark recesses of his cloak, "I have other business to be attending to now," Kid declared. He nodded at Liz and she skulked moodily out the mirror, dragging Patty behind her by the elbow. The albino pointed at their exit as though it had just dawned on him that they could be used as methods of transportation.

"Misery-chan," The male reaper pressed his palm against my forehead as though I were a child basking in his praise. He smoothed back my hair to place a cold, smooth kiss on my forehead, "I'll speak with you again soon," he warned, "I hope you'll do me the honour of dancing with me on Friday," he smiled before glancing over his shoulder, "Do take good care of her or else I'll see to it that great harm befalls you," he shot at Wes; who looked just as flabbergasted by that statement as I was.

"Kid-ani..." I muttered as I used my fingers to smooth down my fringe in embarrassment. He bade Shinigami-Sama goodbye and also disappeared through the surface of the mirror, extending his hand to meet and slide through his own reflection. I felt Wes shiver, "It's a much quicker way to travel!" I half-scolded him, because I wanted a reason to set him at ease without seeming overprotective.

"Oh, you and Kid look so cute together with your stripes, but Kiddo-kun is such a handful sometimes, I'm glad he has Liz and Patty to look after him!" Lord Death sighed, "..Hm..I seem to remember Faust went after pretty young girls after his wife died," he rose a finger as though he had an idea, and scratched his chin, "You know I'm not happy with the idea of you out there on your own chasing murderers Misery, even if you do it for a good reason.."

I felt at that moment we were balancing on some thread of decision that he could sway in any direction he chose to. I looked across at Wes, who had maintained the same bewildered expression for such a good portion of the day now I feared he might strain his cheeks with the effort of holding it.

Father was adamant I should stay under better protection if I insisted on leaving his care. I often felt like everybody considered me to be fragile despite that I was the elder sister. My Shinigami powers weren't as strong as Kid's so I could only defeat weak evil souls, sense the dead and see how they passed, and help them move on.

I thought about how even now, an innocent teenager could be walking home on an empty street completely unaware of the menacing shadow stalking her with bloodshed on his mind. Compared to my twin and father I had so little with which to help this world. All I could really do was sire children to continue the Shinigami bloodline.

"Miss Thompson was correct when she reminded you Soul Resonance isn't something you should perform with just anybody. Switching multiple resonance with different souls over a short period of time can cause strain to your souls and maybe even tearing.." Shinigami-Sama shook his head, "I have no way of telling how it could alter your own Shinigami abilities because you've never had a weapon before. I'm afraid I cannot allow you to resonate-"

Wes cut him off, and I think my lower lip may have trembled a little from shock. More than ever, I needed a cigarette, "I think there's been some mistake. I'm not a weapon, or a meister-" I snapped my head towards him, startled, "I was there the first time my brother discovered his weapon abilities,"

"If I remember rightly...your younger brother, Soul. He is a scythe weapon, yes?" Lord Death asked and Wes shrugged, his expression dark. So Wes was kept surprisingly updated on the process, then. Just not enough to realise that he had weapon blood, too..I wondered if Soul was the student everyone kept insisting Wes resembled.

Father bounced a little on his black coil lower exterior, "Well, these things take time..But I'm afraid my decision has been made regardless," he turned the caverns of his eye-sockets onto me, "Misery. I can't let you resonate with someone who you aren't in a stable relationship with,"

"But!" I pounded my fist down upon the table so that one of the empty tea cups tipped over, "I want to help all those civilians!"

"Shinigami Chop!" From years of such methods I quickly squared my shoulders as I felt a flat ridge, like a ruler but much thicker, slam directly down the middle of my head. "I'll Shinigami Chop you if you carry on being so silly, Misery" he warned me, patting me on the sore lump sprouting on my head.

I winced, "You just did.." I mumbled through my blush, determined not to look at Wes. Now I had been chastened in front of him I couldn't help but feel he had some form of advantage over me. Family always had a way of embarrassing the very bones of you at the most inopportune moments.

"Now, I'll send some of my more experienced EAT students to take care of Faust and you go back home and find a nice man to make me some Shinigami grandchildren with, hm?" His eye-holes remained happily rounded, "Or I will have to set you up with someone myself. You know Spirit has wanted to settle down recently," He rose his finger like he wasn't suggesting the most ridiculous idea possible.

I flinched at the thought of the overly sexualised red haired divorcee father. He had a daughter eight or nine years younger than myself, "No!" I hissed through my teeth tightly. The Death Scythe attended a stripper bar! He dragged his jaw behind every woman and yet despaired over why his marriage had failed! "He's almost...fifteen years older than me, Father!"

"Maturity is a good quality in a life partner, and how old are you, Wes, hm?" I wasn't surprised that Shinigami-Sama insisted on his humming and probing, but did he have to direct his interrogations on someone other than family!?

"Twenty five," The albino replied, easily enough.

"And Misery here is twenty three..." Lord Death let that sentence hang in the air as though it were worth deliberating. I couldn't feel anymore embarrassed if I tried. I wanted to melt into the floor or curl up into a ball and vanish. "...If you two were to prove to me how close you are together, I might be persuaded to let you help him turn him into a weapon," he nodded, as though he deemed that a fair judgement. I was thoroughly shocked he had decided on this course of choice.

"But I don't have weapon blood!" Wes spluttered as I ran over to Father and hugged him so hard that he had to extend a second arm to clasp me.

"Come on!" I strode back to the albino and extended my hand. He took it, but used his other arm beneath him to balance his weight so he could stand largely without my help. He let go immediately afterwards; I pushed down how strangely sad it made me feel, "Father, I have to get back now,"

The eyeholes in his mask slotted upwards as he pouted, "What, so soon? Are you not going to spend the night at Gallows Mansion?" he whined and seemed upset, but I shook my head.

"Thank you, but I'll have to decline this time. But, I will stay after the party," I gave him one last, fleeting hug with more unrestrained strength than I usually would and stood to face the mirror. Wes hadn't seem surprised at the mention of a mansion, perhaps because he was used to growing up in one himself rather than simply the assumption my father would have grand dwellings.

The albino copied me and Shinigami-Sama shook Wes's hand with the same arm dislocating enthusiasm as when he had first greeted him. "You look after my precious daughter Misery!" he warned in a playful enough tone, but Wes somehow managed to pale further.

"Come on!" I urged him again. He was reluctantly darting suspicious glances at the mirror, despite the fact that I urgently wanted to leave before father could embarrass me further. I overheard the use of the word fatherhood. That's it! I reached up, pushed the hollow between Wes's shoulder blades and shoved him back through the mirror.


	17. Chapter 17

I stepped through the glass onto the bedroom floor; Wes was busy patting his hands up and down his arms. I walked by him, across the room towards the bed. It was too awkward to think of it as his bed, although it was. As I passed, I felt a slight tug of his soul towards mine - like a gravitational pull.

I took a seat on one side of the bed and arranged the pillows so that I could be comfortable, folding my legs one atop the other. Wes stopped checking that he was in one piece and crossed his arms over his chest. The unimpressed look on his pale face didn't bode well for my impending migraine.

I had a headache which made me wish I were alone so I could clutch the sides of my face in private discomfort. I could only guess it was from the pressure of using my Shinigami powers to bring Wes across with me into the Death Room. Although I was weak by Reaper standards, I was still stronger and faster than the average human. I had that to be thankful for, at least.

"We have a lot to talk about.." He conceded, tilting his head to one side. I sensed that he felt more wary and perhaps even a little hurt than fearful or angry. Without Resonating Wavelengths with him I couldn't figure out much more, though.

If only my own feelings were also so easy to read. It hadn't escaped my notice that over the last two months with the albino we'd gradually become accustomed to each other. Each of us gave and took a little so that it was easier for the both of us to live together in such close proximity.

I wore shoes because the way I walked around everywhere barefoot unnerved him - Wes soothed his temper and remembered his manners. I began acting more like myself around him, dropping the lofty airs of a reaper and allowing glimpses of my natural personality to sneak through; he never once complained about the smell of smoke permeating his home.

Wes was the first male non-relative that I'd ever gotten so close with. It was possible that my immaturity was causing me to misinterpret my feelings for him. Perhaps our souls were very compatible, but even that wouldn't explain the strong draw I felt towards him.

"Would you like some coffee?" He asked. I realised that I'd been sat there in silence, drowning in my own thoughts. It had been happening a lot to both of us recently.

I nodded, though it would do little to solve anything, "I'll make it," I announced feebly, rubbing my fingers roughly against my forehead in circular motions to try and dispel the throbbing pain, "I need a cigarette.."

I guessed that he would need a little time and privacy to come to terms with what he had learned. He protested, but I silenced him a glare. I slithered agilely on my behind across the sheets and hopped up from the bed.

Wes had grown too close to me and I to him for comfort and I was concerned over how he had managed to burrow his way into my life so easily. With a little distance between us I could plan the scene ahead and assess how to direct the conversation to more in my favour. And more importantly, what to do about Faust.

I paced downstairs to the kitchen, rolling a cigarette between my fingers and possibly spilling some brown strings of tobacco on the carpeting. I argued with myself on how much I would have to divulge to keep him satisfied - whilst not revealing anything which would have me at a disadvantage.

I filled up the kettle and plugged it back into its power source before resting my back against the counter. If I could turn this interrogation to my advantage I could find out more about Wes; in particular what was behind that locked door of his. I hadn't touched it or investigated inside myself due to his touchy feelings on the subject. It would be rude to do anything that would intentionally upset my host.

Whilst I had a moment, I cast out the line of my concentration and angled in on Wes upstairs. The heady sweetness that his soul exhumed surrounded me. It was like my nose had been filled with honey - in the nicest way. Startled by just how nice I found it, I lashed my soul back. His soul was the same as earlier with no signs of tear or strain from visiting my father - that was good, at least. But my reaction was inappropriate.

I poured the correct amounts of milk and sugar into each mug, then walked towards the backdoor. I opened it and the cat slinked inside, it wound around my ankles and then went over to its bowl to eat. It inspired me to uncover a slice of cake from the fridge and set it on a small plate for Wes. Maybe it would sweeten him up for the difficult conversation we would be having.

I lit my cigarette. I could while away a few minutes smoking and deliberating but still be within easy hearing range of the click that happened when the kettle boiled. "Faust..." I muttered as one of my hands involuntarily curled into a tight fist. My body was small, but it preferred to think that it compacted my Shinigami powers this way.

I tossed the stub onto the ground outside and stepped out, grinding it beneath my heel. Then I went back inside and closed the door behind me. With a funeral march playing through my mind, I went through the motions of preparing the coffee. Juggling the two cups and plate, I dragged my feet with what I felt was justified hesitation upstairs.

Inside the bedroom, during my absence Wes had moved to sit on the edge of the mattress furthest from where I had been before. He accepted the mug I offered him with a little reluctance, and was noticeably more excited by the appearance of the chocolate strawberry cake, "Normal amount of sugar, right?" he joked with apparent struggle. I smiled at him and he took a tentative sip.

He shielded over top of the cup with his hand to ensure none dripped as I got back onto the bed. I manoeuvred myself so that I was comfortable with my unspilt mug in hand, "I guess that this is the time where I explain.." I rubbed under my earlobe a little, following it to scratch along my hairline. The movement soothed me - a feeling which stopped when I saw Wes was smirk a little before taking a bite of cake.

"You've started to itch the back of your head like I do when I'm frustrated.." he commented after much chewing and delighted sounds. I felt from my neck to my ears immediately scald purple, "Also, you don't put on all that weird mysticism that you do at the station in the house anymore,"

I disguised my oncoming frown under the pretence of taking a long sip of coffee. It galled me that he could read me so easily. However my insulted sense of honour was dampened by my cheeks which were still flushed pink.

"As a Shinigami there are certain expectations to be met, of course.." I sipped my coffee again. He had a tendency to flip from hot to cold which made his temper impossible to predict. All in all, Wes eluded me..and I really enjoyed puzzles.

He leant back on his elbows so his body was stretched out on the mattress. I tried not to stare directly and demurred my eyes to my mug instead. His quiet self-confidence unnerved me. I had an inkling it was borne from being held in high authority from others.

"Now that I've seen you hassled by your Father and Brother like any other family.." He flashed me a sharp-toothed grin. I stared openly this time, because I never got to see his fangs much. His tight-lipped smile usually hid them. They looked interesting and dangerous. I wondered what one would feel like if I touched it with my finger, "..Some of your ethereal charm has vanished for me,"

He squawked as I only half-playfully lashed my foot out. It irked me that he had such a big advantage over me now. Still, his words struck true and my lower lip must have protruded before I could stop it. He massaged the spot of torso where I'd kicked him and noticed my churlish response, "Hey, don't pout...You're pretty cute now you don't come across as weird.."

The bridge of my nose reddened. I'd never been called cute before. I wondered if my father had cast some mind warping form of reaper magic on him, "Stop teasing me..Anyway, I thought we needed to talk?" I knew that I was still frowning, despite he had just told me not to. He took a drink from his mug and I set mine on the bedside table.

"I'm not teasing.." He admitted. Before I had time for the words to sink in, he pushed himself up from the bed. He set his empty cup beside mine and grabbed his belt, it had his gun and a set of keys on it. He walked towards the bedroom door and leant inside the open frame, "Come on, let me show you something.."

Despite my humiliation, I caved in due to my natural curiosity. I got up from the bed and shrugged, "Fine.." I schooled my expression so it still appeared snooty. I wouldn't let him know how much he got to me. Besides, I was eager to grasp at anything that gave me more time before I had to have The Big Serious Talk with him.

He took the ring of keys from his belt and counted off each one. Two keys for both doors that led inside the house, two for his deposit box and locker at work, one for the Mustang. Which left just one, and there was only a single locked place left that I could think of.

Wes took off the key and crossed the hall. I followed and watched him insert it into the lock of the room I had never been in. Instantly, anticipation coursed through me and alit each nerve ending. As it opened, this door creaked in a manner which the other doors of the house did not.

I waited before walking in, "Can I..?" I ventured timidly. He nodded. I walked by him, feeling the heat of his body and proximity of his soul.


	18. Chapter 18

The room was decorated only in black and white, with odd geometric patterns that contrasted with each other. There were lingering traces of hope and creativity I could sense remaining in the darkest corners. In a moment of confusion, I thought that somehow I had entered a portal back into Death City.

Black lengths of cloth hung in heavy folds over the windows, blocking all the light from pouring inside. Noticing several candles on the floor, I bent and clicked my lighter to light some of them. They had melted down to alternating heights and sat in puddles of wax on the unadorned floorboards. It brightened the gloom of the room a little - but didn't improve the atmosphere of neglect.

My eyes adjusted almost instantly, noticing a glint. The light was reflecting off several long instrument cases suspended on brackets along one wall. There was a cabinet of trophies and the spidery skeleton of a music stand, both coated in a fine dust which indicated it hadn't been used in a while. Otherwise, the bleak room was empty.

I turned around having taken it all in. Wes was stood in the open doorway, filling it with his presence. His eyes were averted downwards, face angled away from me as if he couldn't bear the resentment he thought my gaze would harbour. The silence stole over us; heavy as despair and thick as memories.

"I knew there was something musical about you.." I half-smiled, wondering why he had decided to allow me in here after months of refusing to tell me what was inside. Wordlessly, he lifted his palm to his chest. He massaged the spot above his heart as if it ached, "Your soul has a song all of it's own," I explained, hoping he'd know I intended it as a compliment. His torn expression grew more anguished.

I looked around the room again with more leisure, taking in each object gradually until my gaze pinned onto one of the largest of the cases. I was curious about what was inside, and took a step over. I glanced back over my shoulder, sweeping back my hair so I could see him better. His ruby eyes watched the movement, "Could I..?" I trailed off, gesturing with one hand feebly at my side.

He nodded sternly, as though it pained him a great deal. I noticed he hadn't taken a step further into the room. He looked the most uncomfortable in his own skin I'd ever seen him. Something in here reminded him of an aspect of himself he didn't like.

I was mindful of the gravity of the event as I undid the heavy antique silver clasps. The black leather case was powdered with dust, but I guessed if had been shiny once. It opened, slowly as a coffin lid as though it intended to add further weight to the theatricality of the situation.

Inside lay something so exquisite my eyes could hardly regard it. My fingers tightened on the side of the trunk. Inside lay a cello so beautiful that my mind ached from comprehending it's splendour. Even a jewelled crown would have looked tacky beside it.

The neck was a delicate polished dark wood. It flowed down with swan like grace, pebbled with gold turning joints. It had the body of a voluptuous woman perched on her perfectly rounded behind and hair-thin strings. The needle upon which it was set looked sturdy and reliable, the inside panelling was a lighter, seed rich autumnal brown. This was inset with large gold cogs which complimented it's steam punk appearance.

The rest was decorated with gold filigree in incomprehensible floral designs and two large fist sized rubies. A slender bow of similar beauty lay by it's side. I could not price it. I took a step back in awe and felt movement behind me.

I turned and saw the rubies match the shade of Wes's eyes, which fixed upon the instrument with open disdain, "I had a fondness for collecting string instruments..but I've never been able to play this particular cello.." He gave a wistful smile that didn't reach his eyes, "It resists me, however the accompanying violin in a similar theme sounds wonderful.."

I was surprised; not only by the wealth of instruments in the room but also his previously hidden evidently expansive knowledge on them, "I've...never heard you talk about something so passionately before, not even your job," I admitted, "..H-How did you afford something like this?" I asked, despite feeling it was a little rude to do so.

Wes rolled his shoulders, "I once played professionally, some might say I was somewhat of a celebrity in the music world," he conceded in a nonchalant voice, mentioning it like it was nothing

I felt a felt a curious sensation at that moment, as though he were feigning to cover how nervous he felt about opening up to me about his past. I wondered why he was showing me this instead of asking me what in the ten circles of hell had happened in the Death Room, "Why are you.."

"Why do you still want to go after Faust..?" The albino interrupted. He noticed my mouth drop open in an unhindered way and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, "...Your father assured you that he would send a meister and weapon to take care of him."

I cocked my head. The easy way he'd phrased 'Father' was another hint to the aristocracy he sometimes displayed. I was unable to dwell on this further, as he continued: "Do you want to maybe do it for a reason to prove it to yourself?"

If my mouth hadn't already been hanging it would have opened. We stood in silence for a moment as he enjoyed me squirm beneath the weight of his accuracy. Nobody apart from Kid and Father had ever spoken to me like that before! The audacity of this man! And even worse, he was completely right! I was now aware of why he was such a valued policeman.

Wes seemed to know he had sufficiently stunned me with his accuracy to know when to leave it and not push further. In a swift movement he pressed up against me firmly so that his chest was flush against my cheek. My back felt the cool gold and metal of the cello. I instinctively shuffled backwards. Despite that my breasts rounded where they awkwardly pressed up against his torso.

I flushed purple as his arms reached around me. I thought my skin would move with the pounding of my heart. My pulse felt like a caged bird. I was a pinned butterfly against him. I could feel the blue waves of his soul emanating from him, beckoning me. The air had become unbearably sweet again.

He slammed the lid shut and violently fastened the clasps like the sight of the cello offended him, "I can't help you, even if I wanted too.." He whispered. So close, I could feel every word as they fell into the shell of my ear, "I don't have weapon blood. I'm sorry.." He moved away as quickly as he'd struck.

When he left, he seemed to take all of the heat of the room with him. The air cooled my heated cheeks. I was sure my face was a vivid red. When I was sure his footsteps had retreated downstairs, I dusted myself down. I arranged my clothes from where they had become fumbled to give my mind time to compose itself. Knowing he was out of earshot, I muttered, "That's what you think.."

The cat uttered a loud and distinctly unhappy meow from the other room.


	19. Chapter 19

I found him in the living room, staring at the television with his arm stretched across the back of the sofa. An empty plate on the coffee table indicated that he had finished off the remaining slices of cake that I had baked. I was surprised it had taken him that long.

I walked towards the kitchen to have a cigarette in the back garden, when I heard him call me: "Misery?" His voice beckoned me to turn back around. He laughed and the palm stretched furthest from his body patted the couch, "You're so weird, you've been here a while now..You should be comfortable enough to just come sit down,"

He was the one who stormed off earlier..but his temperament seemed much lighter now. So, I forwent nicotine and took a seat furthest away from him on the other side. For a little while, we sat there in companionable silence as he switched from channel to channel, stopping for a few minutes if he saw something he liked, and I was happy to let him.

My thoughts wandered to Kid and what he would make of this unsymetrical living room, though I liked the choice of decorating myself. I closed my eyes and centred myself. My soul ventured forwards to radiate in peaceful rolls due to the lack of dead presences nearby. The wave slowly spread outwards to encompass more area.

Wes moved and I opened my eyes. My concentration had broken just as I had made it to the other end of the street, figuratively. He had left the room and after I heard the fridge slam came back moments later; a cold beer in his hand.

He slumped back into his seat with the air of a man with little energy. He popped the tab off with his thumb and took a deep slug. It seemed odd to watch him drink, maybe because he was a cop, but after a second I didn't dare risk looking again. He had a right to relax after all. Today had as been hard on him as it had on me.

I shifted my weight a little to get more comfortable, sitting back further on the couch. Wes was right, it was ridiculous that I still walked on eggshells around him after two months of living with him. To distract myself; I began a method for which I had to focus first on the buzz of the television, then separate each note of every tone and differentiate the pitches.

It was designed to hone my concentration, but after a few minutes I felt a little light headed. My eyes closed and my head involuntarily snapped backwards. Long but thick fingers twitched to fondle the silky hair that hit it instinctively.

"Ouch, sorry," I started to rub the back of my head as I repositioned myself.

"It's okay.." I felt his hand twitch again as he excused me. The light make his cheeks seem to redden as he drained the rest of his can and set it heavily on the coffee table. The slender muscles in his arms flexed beneath his shirt. I wondered when I had started to think of him as a man instead of just a partner on a job. It had happened without my notice.

"Sorry, I don't usually drink beer.." He grinned and I caught a glimpse of the sharp serrated edges of his teeth, but he sharply clamped his lips back together when he noticed me looking, "It goes straight to my head, I prefer wine.." He repeated the motion of getting another beer from the fridge. Clearly his fangs were a touchy issue, and his taste for wine was another subtle sign of his cultured background.

He sat back down and again opened it to take a sip whilst it was still cold. The silence resumed as he pretended to watch the television. I knew it was pointless to try any other mental exercises whilst he was in the room. It was like being stood in a freezing tundra, trying to ignore a roaring fire beside me.

"Hey, Wes...?" I muttered after a few minutes. He sensed something in my tone and turned his attention away from the television to face me. His eyes were unnerving but it was better to dig up the matter whilst the grave earth was still freshly turned, "You were right earlier.." I admitted, "But it's not just for myself..it's because I know what bad spirits can do and I know that I can help people if I'm given a chance. I'm not a child,"

I stopped and swallowed, but I carried on talking whilst I could. If I didn't get this all out now I wouldn't be able to continue, "I won't have more innocent blood spilt, there are ways where I can easily get stronger and I will do whatever there is in my power to assist in Faust's destruction.." I choked out the last words, the conclusion to my unprecedented voluntary outburst.

The albino seemed to understand the momentum of the occasion and stayed silent, even turning off the television with his remote and putting his beer on the floor, "Destruction, not capture?" He rose an eyebrow.

I swallowed again. Time to switch topics - we had a lot to cover after all, "Y'know...sometimes, there are families where it may SEEM that there's only one member who has inherited weapon blood. The blood can skip a few generations," I kept my voice nonchalant. Wes had been forced into enough weird conversations today already, "They can briefly activate in an unconscious state..but depending on the circumstances of the persons life...the blood may never awaken,"

Wes picked up his can of beer to take two generous slugs before leaving it empty on the table, "I don't know much about that kind of stuff.." He admitted, pausing to wipe the back of his hand over his mouth, "I do know some things..like the type of and appearance of a weapon can vary depending on the person's personality," I nodded encouragingly, "Just because say...someone related to you takes a certain form, doesn't mean necessarily you'll have the same,"

I wondered if he was thinking of his brother, Soul Eater the scythe weapon. I kept my eyes on the carpet because somehow it made it easier to speak to him when I wasn't looking at him, "Father told me it helps when you're transforming to picture the weapon resting in one's soul." I explained, "Inexperienced weapons sometimes accidentally hurt people if their transformation goes wrong, so they get discriminated against. That's why Father runs the DWMA to train control over their abilities so they can be accepted and even helpful to society,"

Wes was quiet for a long time. I sensed that he had a lot on his mind right now, so I let the silence stretch on as he wrestled with everything I'd told him. I'd certainly given him many things to worry about. I felt bad for burdening him. If I'd never accepted this job, come to this town..maybe his weapon blood would have never awakened.

He finally stretched out one arm, "I can still picture the day Soul and me were outside and he first realised his Weapon transformation.." He mumbled, "..He turned his arm into a blade. I was so surprised - but happy for him, too," I blinked. I couldn't place the tone he used when he was talking about his brother. I was pretty sure it wasn't the same as the voice I used when I spoke about mine, "I remember saying even our grandmother would be surprised.." He shrugged, "I think Soul took my interest the wrong way.." He muttered, then rolled his shoulders as if casting off bad thoughts.

The albino scratched the back of his neck. He angled his body to face mine and our knees almost touched, "If I hypothetically could somehow turn into a weapon...would you..." He swallowed and glanced away, "Be my meister, Misery?"

Inwardly I let out a giant squeak. I wasn't sure what kind of expression I was wearing right now but my body was exploding with all kinds of difficult emotions I'd never felt before. I couldn't place any of them, but somehow they all felt good. The fireworks ended and left a warm feeling inside my chest. I blushed and immediately began to stammer, "I-It's not so simple as just answering that!"

He frowned and tilted his head, "It's not?" He asked. I didn't know if I wanted to hug him or slap him. I was so flustered! I'd never been asked to be somebodies meister before!

I shook my head, "If it turns out our souls are incompatible we won't be able to resonate our Wavelengths.." I pouted, "That could have a reaction, I could burn my hands or harm your weapon form with my Wavelength and we'll never be able to synchronise.." My voice rose, "We just don't know enough about each other yet!"

He sat forwards to steeple his fingers under his chin as if in thought, "So your father wasn't lying when he said that there's a lot more too it than a simple friendship..." He nodded and sat back comfortably as though concluding something, "It seems to run a lot deeper than that, a connection that is a lot more significant to break. More like a partnership,"

His eyes searched mine for my opinion, "Yes," I nodded again, relieved that he had easily grasped the notion. Although he had little contact with his younger brother, he must have remembered hearing information from years ago when the situation was explained to him, "A bond between weapon and meister isn't like any other relationship. It's tested everyday. A weapon has to be willing to put his or her life on the line to keep their meister safe," My hands curled into fists, "It's a partnership that takes years of training.."

Wes stood up and extended his hand towards me, "Well, on this Faust case you are my partner," he concluded. When I didn't grab his hand he clasped his fingers around my wrist and easily yanked me up, "Come on," he let go and I was left to stumble in the wake of his tornado like enthusiasm as I followed him upstairs.


	20. Chapter 20

Wes seemed in better spirits. He had opened one of the smaller, multiple instrument cases and was bent over it, "Hand me that pile of sheets.." he instructed me. I was so genuinely surprised that we were back in the mysterious room that he seemed to hate - and so soon too!

I glanced over and I saw them gathering cobwebs on one of the top shelves. I stood on tiptoe to retrieve them, my hand flailing clumsily, "Hm!" I huffed indignantly. I puffed out my cheeks as I tried, and failed, again to grab it. The daughter of Shinigami-Sama shall not be bested by a height issue! I hopped up and retrieved it at last.

"Thanks," Wes grinned at me, and I was sure some of it was at my trouble. He was polishing a slender violin made of the same grain of wood and superb craftsmanship of the cello.

"Is that the accompanying piece to the cello?" I asked to verify. He nodded, before taking the sheets from my hands. He moved to arrange the, on the stand.

I took a moment to study the violin, it had the same outer intricately carved bearings of gold as the cello. The cogs and two glass encased clocks also gave it a steam-punk design. The chin rest was a black ebony carved into the shape of a wing. The bow was simple but refined. It was just as beautiful as the larger instrument and rivalled it in it's splendour.

Wes came back over. He took up the violin and bow in assured hands. He had the ease of someone who felt confident handing instruments, "You like Vitali, right?" I nodded, feeling myself flush slightly. I hadn't expected him to remember. He walked to the stand, "This is Chaconne,"

He proceeded to play me the most beautiful melody I had ever heard. From the first stroke, he reeled me in and mesmerised me with a rapid pace of jaunty notes that thrilled my blood until it fizzed inside me. I was instantly swept away on the tide of the music.

Every sound that passed my ears drew my soul closer to his. If at that moment he had chosen to play a sadder song, I would have been beside myself with despair. Each rising note reared within my chest and the quieter moments moved unbearably. Wes had complete control of my will.

The albino's head gently bobbed and occasionally dipped as he played, his eyes shut with blissful ecstasy and concentration. With them closed it was almost as though he was playing to an audience only of his own invention. I felt so insignificant. I was flotsam helplessly drifting from wave to chord.

At the end I both rejoiced for having lived to experience it and mourned as nothing would ever again compare to the purity of that sound. Wes said nothing as he quietly tidied away the violin in the case and I stood there reeling.

It was like I felt unable to move without the music to guide me. I felt so empty and surprised at the effect it had upon me. I noticed my hands were shaking. When I looked at his, the slightest tremor betrayed that he was too.

"That is the only time you'll ever hear me play," he stated in a stern tone, as though he were admonishing me. I'd never heard him use it before. He gave me a kindly smile, "You look pale, have you eaten today?" His voice turned unexpectedly gentle, "Go and get into my bed, I'll make you some rice," He pushed the small of my back with his hand to nudge me out of the room.

I huffed quietly to myself but did as he bade. He acted like such an elder brother to me sometimes! After hearing his footsteps retreat downstairs, I awoke the cat by scratching behind its ears. Next, I fondled the warm, soft hair of its exposed tummy. It curled up tighter to sleep, so I left it as a purring heap of fur on the mattress.

I changed into one of Wes's button down shirts, white and long enough that it hung to my knees. I tied my hair tied back so it wouldn't get caught in the collar. Then, I rolled up the sleeves and prepared myself a cigarette.

Lastly, I slipped my toes into the sandals Wes had bought me. At first I hadn't wanted to accept the gifts, but he'd accused me of being wasteful. The wealth of instruments had proven to me that he had not always been a man of simple tastes.

I grabbed my lighter and headed downstairs. Wes was in the kitchen, struggling to heat some water on the stove. He frowned when he saw me, "I told you to get some rest.." He averted his eyes, something different displayed on his face. I couldn't place it, "-And there you go again, wearing my clothes!" He scolded. I flushed, and he grabbed one of his raincoats from the back of the kitchen chair. It was charcoal grey and fashionably cut, "At least put this on too so you don't catch a cold," he chided.

Talking down to me, as usual. Since evidently I was playing the unwanted role of the child in this situation, I stuck out my tongue. He shook his head and draped it over my shoulders. It hung comically large.

He turned back to the pan so I went to the back door and opened it, stepping outside. It was reasonably dark now. I lit my cigarette and the orange glow hovered in the shadows before me.

I stood there for a few minutes then ground the last embers out under my sole. I shut the door as I went back inside, "Good timing," Wes complimented over his shoulder. He was washing the pan and sieve at the sink. I saw a bowl of rice and chopsticks on the table, and folded his coat carefully on the back of the chair, "Hey, wait! he stepped over, "I have to pull your chair out, remember?"

"But your hands are all soapy.." I argued. We both looked down to the droplets running onto the floor. He grinned and shrugged it off, helping me into my seat regardless. I couldn't help being encouraged by his wide grin into making a small smile of my own, but I covered my mouth with my hand.

He returned to his task and I ate in silence until I was finished. He cleaned the bowl, although I'd done a pretty good job of it. Most people get creeped out with my accuracy when it comes to picking up grains of rice with chopsticks.

I scraped out the chair and stood up, shifting one foot and then the other, "Thank you, that was delicious. W-would you like to come upstairs?" I hedged, feeling ridiculous. This was his house after all.

He rolled his shoulders, "Even I can't mess up rice.." He scratched the back of his ear, glancing down at the floor before back to my eyes, "Eh..sure.." He replied as if he felt silly, too. We both trudged upstairs.

Inside the bedroom, Wes got some new candles out from the packet on the bedside table. I passed him my lighter before he had even asked. He grabbed it from me in a perfectly synchronised movement. He lit them and we both shared an awkward almost-smile as he grabbed the back of his neck.

I got comfortable in the bed, reflecting on all that had happened that day. Identifying the killer, taking Wes to meet my family and hearing him play that beautiful song..the albino himself was now leaning against one of the bedposts with his arms folded.

"Something's on your mind," he commented astutely, cocking his head to one side like I did.

One corner of my mouth twitched, "You keep tilting your head down..I wonder who you picked that up from?" He laughed with a loud, brash uncertainty. His colourless skin made it really easy to see when he was blushing. He grabbed the back of his neck and the movement almost made him slip from his casual stance, "Why do you always stand, baka? It's technically your bed.." I grumbled.

The way he overlooked his own comfort to ensure I had mine was a little irritating. That was strange within its own right, because I was normally used to people bending over backwards to please me. Why did I feel awkward when he did it, why should he be any different?

"Well, I suppose..." He rubbed his earlobe, then perched ridiculously on the edge of the mattress. It looked as though he would slip off if he so much as twitched, "..I was just being polite," he stretched back with one arm to steady his weight. The cat mewled loudly as he touched its tail with his fingers and woke it.

"Sorry.." He apologised grumpily. It turned its head away when he tried to pet behind its ears, a few more failed attempts and he turned to look at me, "Stupid cat. You keep forgetting to feed it, it's like I own the damn thing.."

I half-smiled, "Oh, I'm sorry. It usually hunts for itself most of the time... I'm not used to having a pet that's alive," I perked my head. Wes collapsed as though this last statement has caused the entire day to fold upon him.

"You...you can't have a dead pet!" he frowned deeply, shaking his head "You, you just...can't!" he looked unsure of wether to shake this all off as macabre humour or not.

"Why ever not?" I argued, now also frowning. He had adapted to accept so much with an admirable tenacity today already and yet he couldn't also believe this? "Look at the cat.." he barely glanced before opening his mouth, but I continued and he clamped his mouth shut moodily, "I mean, really look at it.."

I watched as he reluctantly turned his head and sighed. Undeterred, the cat lashed its tail to show its annoyance. It thumped against the mattress, "H-huh?!" He gasped and put as much distance between him and the cat as possible, "W-what is that, inside the cat?" He pushed his hair backwards with one hand, "I guess I couldn't see it before..."

I leaned forwards and ran my long nails through the cats thick fur at the base of its neck. It was as black and smooth as a shadow, "This cat is possessed by a car crash victim. When the spirit passed over it asked a favour of my Father - that he spare its little girl, who was also in the crash.."

I moved my hand up to the cats ears, my expression darkening, "Yuka..I go visit to see her every so often.." The cat began to purr and raised its head to rub itself against my palm. "She doesn't know about the arrangement and thinks that I'm just an old friend of her mothers." I revelled in the ticklish sensation of its delicate whiskers,"I take the cat with me so it doesn't miss me during my absence," I lied.

I didn't want him to think I was weak hearted. Yuka's face always lit up when the cat rubbed around her ankles and refused to sit anywhere but on her knee. Only I had seen the unfathomable depths of sadness in the cats eyes.

"But I couldn't see into its body to see the soul before..." Wes looked more composed now that I had explained. I guessed he had never heard of the concept of a human soul being implanted in an animals body before..probably because only my Father and a gifted meister named Stein could perform the procedure, "And...that still doesn't explain why it is inside a cat,"

"It promised my father if he allowed Yuka to live it would dedicate its afterlife to protecting me...the cat corpse just happened to be the first thing lying around," I gave under its chin and chest one last scrub with my knuckles before sitting back.

"Just...lying...by...huh...?" Wes's voice came out strangled and his expression had frozen comically, "I don't see how a cat could help...can it turn into a panther or something?" he eyed the cat dubiously, and gave it a soft prod with one finger.

"No. It just mainly spies on me and reports back to Father," I commented dryly. It clawed out with one quick, extended paw. I almost-smiled as he swore and stuck his newly scratched thumb in his mouth, muttering revenge. He sucked it in silence for a few moments, glaring at the preening feline.

"It's temperamental, like you..Hey, Misery?" I looked up at him. His expression had changed suddenly, smoothing as though he had just stumbled upon a thought he wished to dwell upon, "Y'know earlier..." he broke off and switched to rest his weight onto his other arm, "Uh..When I asked if I could turn into a weapon, would you be my meister? You said, it's not so simple as answering that?"

"Hmnrnmhn?" I blushed at the embarrassing noise that came out of my mouth and covered my face with my hands. He was staring intently at me. That sweet smell had tainted the air again and was making my head dizzy. Maybe I needed a glass of water.

"If it were simple...would you say yes?" he lay back on the bed, pillowing his head under one arm. The material of his formal shirt clung to his sculpted lower abdomen - why did he have to wear them tucked in so I noticed things like that?

"B-But, but-" Hearing the sound of my own stammering, the heat spread from my cheekbones and down my neck. My head began to pound, "That's really not something that I can just..." I looked down to my knees. There was a moment of silence. "Listen..Wes. You know how all the victims of Faust have been dark haired?" I could barely hear my whispering over the hammering of my heart.

Wes scratched his head. He looked a little hurt at the change of topic, but didn't mention it. The cat woke up at the movement and jauntily stared at him before it wandered out the room tail aloft, "Maybe he has a thing for them, or against them.." he brooded, "..And just when I thought we were getting along," he muttered at the tip of the cats tail as it whisked around the doorframe.

"Actually.." I kept my gaze as far from his as possible. I couldn't bear to look at him for fear for his reaction, "Although he was somehow awakened before I came here, since my arrival he has been targeting me. As a Shinigami soul, eating me would give him a great deal of power. I haven't mentioned that to my father.."

I awaited the assault of scolding I would surely receive. After a moment of silence I glanced over, Wes's weed to be struggling against his rising anger and his typical cop nature. He chose the latter and began cooly analysing the new evidence, "I'm really irritated that you withheld information from me on this case Misery. We're partners," he chided, "I know that you have some crazy idea of either fighting Faust or sacrificing yourself to save the lives of innocent souls,"

I thrust out my chin. "And...so what if I do?" I ventured stubbornly. He pushed himself into a sitting position. I was suddenly very conscious of how the candle light struck the angles of his jaw and crimson eyes.

He moved in a matter of moments. One second he was stood upright, the next his arm was hooked under my shoulder. He quickly pulled so that I was lay on my side. I squealed with surprise as he curled up against me from behind.

"Maybe I have some crazy idea..." His arm slid over my side. I couldn't remember how to breathe. I could feel every muscle and angle of him. Surrounded by the enveloping sweetness of his scent, Chaconne echoed in my ears. "...Of protecting you..."


	21. Chapter 21

Warmth emanated from an unknown source behind me. Eyes shut, I wriggled with pleasure. The pillow propped up behind my back had never seemed so comfortable before. I was surrounded by the sweet scent of Wes, I assumed from his shirt that I still wore.

The faint, lingering bars of Chaconne left my head as it gradually cleared. I reached my hand over to pet the cat. My eyes flew open when my fingers met impossibly smooth skin, "Eep!" I squeaked in the most un-reaper-ish way possible.

Wes laid on his back staring at the ceiling. He had unbuttoned his shirt during the night to his collarbones, and had his head propped under one arm. Aware that I was staring too much I suddenly found myself unable to look at him at all.

I assumed we fallen asleep in unison last night, why else would he have not gone downstairs as soon as I fell asleep? I flushed, shy and unsure of what to say to him, "Oh..I..um..I, sorry!" I stuttered.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to force coherence onto me quicker. This was the first time I had ever woken up next to a man - apart from when I was younger and would sleep with father and Kid on the nights he returned home late from 'work'.

I think this is the first time in my life that I'm blushing before even getting out of bed. My only condolence was that Wes looked embarrassed, too, "You sleep like the dead, seriously.." He mumbled, his voice rough from disuse, "I mean..you fell into a deep sleep and stopped breathing. I couldn't feel your heartbeat," he blinked, "I was going to ring an ambulance, but you told me to stop yelling without even waking up,"

I pulled his shirt down because it had rose up to my hips during the night, exposing my black lace panties. I hoped he hadn't already seen them, "I apologise. I shouldn't have fallen asleep in a mans' company.." I rummaged through my bag to roll a cigarette. The bedroom felt full of eggshells and I wanted a breath of fresh air - or inhale of smoke - to ease the fluttering anxiety in my chest.

He ruffled his hair and my hands curled with the effort of not stroking it myself. Uncombed, it stuck upright in jagged edges that disguised how soft the strands were. I'd never seen it so messy before. It irked me that he retained his rugged good-looks even in the morning. I snapped my eyes away again.

"This case has got me pretty exhausted, too" he excused, "Plus, that sofa has been murder on my back anyway.." He pulled an agonised expression.

I got up from the bed and felt his eyes upon my legs, "I told Harrington we would run by the station this evening, I don't want to go in empty handed.." I heard the albino pull himself into a sitting position. I felt a little guilty that he had been suffering in silence at sleeping downstairs. He should have drank the tea that I made for him. "...I need proof that will make him continue sitting on the sidelines as I resolve this. For that, I'll purify Faust's grave today to weaken his soul,"

Wes frowned at me, then stretched with the ease of a predator. My eyes ached at the strain of not staring, "Just say the word and we can have armed men on standby..as well as the EAT students your father is sending.." he shrugged, "You don't have to do this alone..that's all,"

I didn't know how to reply when his voice went all gentle and concerned like that. I rolled the cigarette in silence, and it took a few seconds longer than usual because my hands were shaking. Without responding I thumped downstairs with unnecessary force in an admittedly immature display. He could shower first and then I'd have time to get washed and change clothes afterwards.

I stopped to stroke the cat as it met me in the doorway to the kitchen. A long meow reminded me to feed it, so I did. The smell of the cat meat was unpleasant, and I wrinkled my nose. I filled the kettle with water and set it to boil, then unlocked and opened the back door.

I leant against one side of the frame and sparked my cigarette, taking a few smooth drags immediately. Was it just the lack of nicotine putting me in a bad mood? It didn't seem so. I wasn't used to having to pick my jumbled thoughts clean. They were usually so orderly.

I frowned and pressed my head into my hands with the effort. When I finished my cigarette a few minutes later I still didn't feel placated. I began to make the tea and heard footsteps as Wes came downstairs. He went straight into the living room and the low murmur of the television began as I crossed to the fridge.

After a moments inspection I bought out a carton of eggs and a block of cheese. It only took a minute to whisk the eggs to the perfect mix between soufflé and omelette, with a few more spent grating the cheese. I began to toast the bread and a rummage in the cupboards rewarded me with a small bottle of grated herbs. I sprinkled them liberally over the egg as it fried. When it was almost ready I sprinkled the cheese atop so that it would melt.

I put the rest of the ingredients away and set the table. Half a second after I had set his place, Wes came in with sweet-smelling, damp hair. I assumed he had heard me cooking. After picking up the scent of something that didn't indicate rice, he was attempted to innocently hang around the door to see what I was making. I still couldn't look at him.

I scraped the egg onto the toast and put the plate on the table. I gestured with my hand to show him it was ready and that he could eat it, "Thanks.." He muttered reluctantly, without meeting my eyes. He pulled out his chair and our fingers didn't brush as I passed him a knife and fork. Great, just another day of us tiptoeing around each other.

I rolled up the shirt sleeves and began cleaning. Soon I had finished all of the dirty dishes and wiped down the kitchen surfaces until everything sparkled, but neither of us had said another word. There was silence aside from the scrape of his cutlery and chewing.

Finally he spoke up, "You cooked me bacon yesterday, even though you're a vegetarian. Wasn't that..." he finished the rest of his meal as he fumbled for the words, "Difficult?"

I turned and leant across the table to take his plate. I liked what a voracious appetitive Wes had. I took my time to wash his plate before answering. My brow furrowed as I stared sightlessly at the window. My reflection displayed that I mulled through troubled thoughts.

"..Yes. When I touch meat, I can sense how the animal died...Most food isn't as free range as advertised," Somehow I couldn't conjure up the sneer that I usually applied; like Kid I never used full potential of my facial muscles.

My hands stilled for a moment from where I had been drying them on a small dishcloth. I looked over my shoulder and adopted a sunnier, false voice, "But, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes.." he answered quickly, eager to please me. He began to chew at his thumbnail. He was troubled by something, "But...that was very nice of you.." his voice tugged my feet from the edge of the sink to the table, "..People don't expect death to be prone towards random acts of kindness,"

"Yes.." I replied flatly. I angled my eyes down to disapproving slits at him; overall not the most enthusiastic of expressions, "..And that's an ongoing issue if I ever saw one,"

"Misery.." He stood up unexpectedly. The change was so sudden that it made me noticeably jolt away. The loud scrape of the chair and swiftness of his movements surprised me. He was definitely becoming stronger and quicker.

I'd noticed a little each day his body had slowly been succumbing to the awakening weapon blood that had stirred since my arrival. That was no shock, because to our uncommonly strong soul connection. We hadn't Resonated yet - but even I now felt the pull of his soul. It drew me like a tide to wherever he was.

"You're so eager to hurt yourself for others - but is that really the duty of a Shinigami?" He stepped behind me, his breath lifted the sensitive hairs on the nape of my neck, "It's already part of my job to help people.." he shrugged but I could tell from his stiff shoulders that the nonchalance was feigned, "Right now you're somebody who needs help, too," his voice gentled.

I knew his words had been intended to comfort me, but a hot spike agonised through my chest. I was abruptly glad that he wasn't facing me, so he couldn't see my expression. I was sure that I would double over from the burning pain. Why did it hurt so much?

Suddenly the sensation receded. A heavy, cold weight settled like a ball of lead in my stomach. I felt it ache, as hollow as if everything inside had been carved out. His words echoed inside my mind in a haunting way:

'..It's already part of my job to help people...' '..Right now..'

I knew that we were just temporarily partners on this case together, but..I hadn't realised that I meant so little to him.

Each breath was a struggle, but I managed to adopt a frosty tone. My voice could have frozen hell over, thawed it and then froze it again, "Excuse me," I excused without turning around. Not looking at him had suddenly became a lot easier, "I should take my turn to shower,"

And this morning had started off so well..not.


	22. Chapter 22

I've always taken time aside to enjoy the pleasure of having a long shower. I found it eased away the troubles of the day. This one was only just beginning and it already seemed that there would be no end to my worries.

The water sloughed off in sheets from my curves as I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. It curled to coil heavily over my shoulders. If I didn't comb it now, it would be even more difficult to tame later.

I tried to dispel the fluttering inside my chest that seemed to resist the pounding of the water. It beat a tattoo over my head rather than my back, because the nozzle was adjusted for a man of Wes's height. I would have to ask him to lower it later - to be more benefitting of someone with my slight stature.

The bathroom was decorated as tastefully as the rest of Wes's home. The light blue towels and rug matched the azure waves on the walls. The waves undulated slowly as I watched, an effect of the thick steam.

I began the methodical process of rubbing lathered soap over my skin, and allowed my mind to wander. Waking up that morning next to Wes had been inconceivable. We had only shared a bed in the most strictest sense. However, I wasn't ignorant of my awakening feelings towards him; the strength of which now was beginning to worry at me.

Of course, I was only lingering on this particular train of thought as it distracted me from the problem that stemmed all of this: Faust. I knew subconsciously that I was going to enjoy irrevocably destroying his crippled spirit. It was a continuous thorn in the back of my mind.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. Then, I swept my hair back over my ears before raising up on the tips of my toes to struggle until my fingers finally managed to turn off the jet of water.

I took the time to pat my body dry with a towel before slipping into my underwear and Wes's shirt. His lingering scent had almost been completely engulfed by mine now. I could wear it to the bedroom and then I would get changed into more work-appropriate clothes.

Perhaps I would wear one later, so that I would have easier range of movement when facing Faust...I frowned at my own expression in the mirror. I was trying not to think about that. I was studying the crease in my eyebrows fretfully when suddenly another face was staring back at me.

I jumped backwards, watching the face and shoulders of my reflection fill out although the sharp cheekbones remained. My hair shortened and two more Sanzo lines sprouted, and then I was staring into the familiar face of my brother.

"Kid! I was showering. I could have been undressed!" I scolded him. The male reapers only response was a slight tilt of one eyelid, as though he thought not a thing comedic about my bedraggled appearance, "What do you want?"

"How rude, and I took the time to call upon you, dearest sister.." he took the time to brush an imaginary fleck of dust from his lapels as I visibly seethed, "You intend to take on Faust yourself regardless of your frail body not being able to contain its powers," he accused. It was a statement, not a question.

I had no idea what he was thinking behind those impassive, yellow eyes. His brow was furrowed thoughtfully. I assumed he was here to dissuade me from Resonating fully with Wes. I also wondered if he was going to ask me if Faust's exorcism had any connection with me wanting to prove my self-worth to Father.

I dropped my voice an octave lower, "Keep your voice down..you don't know anything," I began to towel dry my hair furiously, "..Even though my Reaper powers aren't as strong as yours, I'm better suited for the job than any normal human and I bet I can make a good meister, given the chance!"

"I know you well enough. Father will be unhappy when news reaches his ears. As a Kishin egg, Faust will be attracted to our Shinigami souls in particular.." I straightened and he could see me once again within the frame. He shuddered with repressed horror, "Fix your bangs, one isn't symmetrical..IT'S DISGUSTING ME!"

"I know you well enough that you won't tell him," I bit back, raking my fingers through my hair. I folded the towel neatly on the rack to dry before continuing, "And I am aware of Faust's interest in me," I tidied my hair with the perfection achieved from having a neurotic OCD younger brother a large portion of your life. His expression smoothed over again.

I turned on the tap so the sharp faucet of water hitting the sink would drown out some of my voice, "Perhaps as you inherited the greater powers you think that I haven't noticed the changes in Wes the last few days.." I gave him my best older-sister frown, "My presence here awakened the weapon blood within him - the threat of Faust targeting me has only hastened the process,"

I could tell the touchy subject of our unequal birthrights had unnerved him as I had hoped it would, "Kicchiri kacchiri. Its improper that you live with a man who isn't your husband or partner.." he muttered askew as he began to bite his lip.

His golden eyes breaking contact off mine to wander upon some object I could not see, "He's your work colleague on the Faust case, yes?" I nodded and grabbed my toothbrush. I wet it and pushed out some toothpaste before I began to brush my teeth. "Is that all he is?"

"Mmm!" He made an agonised face as I bared my foamy teeth at him. I washed out the contents and spat. Then I patted my lips dry on the back of one hand as I replaced the toothbrush with the other. Morning routine completed, I curled a strand of drying hair around my finger.

I pursed my lips as I considered his question. I was surprised that Kid had been astute enough to ask, to my knowledge he had never had a girlfriend, "He's proven his worth to me." I feigned a large yawn to indicate how tired I was with this talk.

"You sleep too much to be considered a true Shinigami.." he resorted back to his customary way of lightly scolding me. I'd known him long enough to understand his chiding lessons was his way of showing that he cared about me, "Death is sleepless!"

"Oh, please. Death is the eternal sleep," I snapped, rolling my eyes. I thought it best to get to the point of his little visit, "Why do you ask these questions?"

My twin was still avoiding looking anywhere near his end of the communication portal. The nondescript wall behind him was a blank grey - he could have been anywhere, "You know that it is our honourable duty to protect the integrity of the powerful Shinigami name.."

I slapped one hand against the mirror and he jumped, "I'm leaving the room and avoiding reflective objects, Kid..." I grumbled, turning off the tap. I retreated to the door and scathingly shot over my shoulder, "Also, I've noticed that although you're ambidextrous, you subliminally favour your right hand,"

I heard him begin to screech through his teeth in mental agony behind me, "Misery!" He shouted when the impending explosion was back under relative control. I looked back over my shoulder, "Perhaps this is the opportunity you need to prove you no longer need to stay safe in Father's shadow.." He swallowed, "But you should know that as your first weapon, the broken Resonance between you and Wes will be excruciating if it fails.."

The mirror clouded over to become formless condensation. I shut the bathroom door with more force than I looked capable of. I stood with my back pressed against the wood, taking deep breaths to resume some composure. When I was ready, I crossed into Wes's mercifully empty room.

Pfft, and I'd naively hoped the shower would get rid of my bad mood.

"Of all the nerve..." I muttered half-threats darkly. I sat on the bed and rummaged through the clothing Wes had helpfully bought for me a few months ago. To be honest, I still felt uncomfortable accepting the gifts. I didn't like the new material - old clothes held past memories and were much more comfortable; so I was surprised that I had liked some of the garments he had chosen. I wondered if a store clerk had helped him to buy them.

I felt something silky and grabbed onto it. I snatched up a pair of tiny panties that I was worried had a similarly scanty bra to match. My eyes widened considerably and a bright blush burned like a brand over my nose, "Eep!" I let out a squeak. It was promptly drowned out in the noise of loud laugher erupting from behind me.

I was so shocked that I dropped the panties. I quickly turned around with a startled expression, "Wes!" I scolded. He was wearing a fresh shirt with a charcoal grey tie and dark trousers. Both complimented his gun-belt and the shining silver badge on his chest. His hair was tamed and his ruby eyes were scrubbed of sleep. I had to admit to myself that he looked...well, great.

The albino kicked off from the doorway, his hand rubbing a light pink brand on his neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.." He grinned, the jagged array of his teeth flashing. Never before had my skin so instantly made the change from white to purple. Although I believed his apology, I could tell he had enjoyed scaring me, "I came to ask if you would like me to drive you to Faust's grave,"

I nodded, "Thank you," I replied formally in a polite manner which contrasted with my bright cheeks. I clasped my hands in my lap and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, "...I would appreciate it," I wondered when he would leave, surely he had noticed my inconvenienced state..I scrubbed one of my cheeks with my palm,"...You're the first non-relative who's been able to sneak up on me like that.."

My eyes watched the movement of his arm raise before he paused and dropped it, I guessed he had been about to scratch his neck but faltered. He took a step closer and instead stuffed his hands deep into his pockets.

I was hyper-aware of the panties lying on the bed where I had flung them. Surely Wes wouldn't have bought something so perverted! I was agonising when I realised that he was walking over. He stopped by the side of the bed and bent over. He rested one of his knees on the mattress and leant across.

I froze as if I was pinioned by soul thread sutures. He seemed to be assessing me in some way. I'd never seen this particular expression before. Did I have something on my face? His face grew closer and less distinct the nearer it drew to mine. His eyes were the most amazing colour I'd ever seen..like freshly spilt blood..

Was I about to have my first kiss?! I stopped breathing. Did I want this?! Regardless of my inner interrogation, my eyelids naturally drifted shut with anticipation.

"...Just so you know, a female employee picked those out.." he muttered, then softly pressed his lips against my forehead. I felt the sweet, fleeting brush of his soul against mine. The warmth of last evening in the music room when he held me against the cello seeped back into my bones.

In that distinct moment I felt the faint thrumming of his heart align with mine. It travelled in unison throughout our limbs, beating as it set my nerves ablaze with the soaring, strident strokes of Chaconne.

A moment later a cool air pushed between us as he abruptly leapt backwards. After a few seconds I opened my eyes with a sense of disappointment and he had already walked out.

It took a good time longer than it should have for my hands to feel steady. Once the shaking stopped, I wasted further time stressing over what to wear. What was happening to me? I usually never cared about what I wore this much - although I always said no to fur or leather. When I eventually picked an outfit my hands began trembling again so the buttons became doubly difficult to fasten.

I felt the exact place his lips had touched my skin like a brand even as I jogged down the stairs. I paused to tickle the cat under the chin where it loitered grumpily stretched out upon on one step, "I'm ready.." I pulled on my jacket, worn at the seams so that secrets leaked from the sleeves. I pulled out my scented hair from where it had gotten caught beneath the hem.

I heard the television murmuring abruptly finish before Wes appeared in the doorframe. Just like waking up beside him that morning, I found that I couldn't meet his eye. He nodded his head at my waist. I wore one of his brown work belts with a black dress fashioned with bell sleeves. I won't tell which choice of underwear I made.

"My belt?" he asked, raising on eyebrow at me.

I nodded back, "Your belt," I confirmed, and began to rummage in my bag for the components to roll a cigarette. I wanted to smoke, but it was also to distract myself and make it clear I didn't wish to pursue the matter.

Wes silently shook his head and opened the door for me, I walked past him and lit my cigarette by the Mustang as he locked up. "Make sure the cat stays inside!" I called over to him, to be safe. I didn't want any news reaching my fathers ears. I had enough work on my hands.

Inside the car, there was a moment of silence before he took one hand from the steering wheel. He slid his eyes across at me without turning his head, "Where to?"

I opened the window and blew a plume of smoke outside, then shrugged, "I'm not sure yet.." I rose a finger because I knew he was about to begin spluttering indignantly, "Take me to any graveyards within a fifty mile radius that have a history of two hundred years...give or take.."

"I've not lived here long enough to know that kind of information..." He grimaced at my 'How were you hired?' expression towards him. I rummaged in my bag and handed him a crumpled pile of yellowed, ageing papers held together with fraying string.

"You're so lucky you have me," I joked casually, without putting too much thought into the words. Suddenly, silence as thick as a blanket smothered us. The air turned heavy and his shoulders quivered as he swallowed what he wanted to say.

Damnit, this wouldn't do! One second we were fine around each other and the next we tiptoed our way through every conversation!

"Yeah..." Wes admitted, as quietly and begrudgingly as revealing a great secret, "..I guess I am.." He stared at his knees as though his gaze had sank under the gravity of his own words.

I suddenly felt as though I should have said nothing. To fill the awkward air he rifled through the papers. I watched them flutter through his fingers, so slender and capable of producing such beautiful music.. "How did you get these?" He asked.

I flashed my half-smile at him. I purposely did it on the side of my face closest to his so that he could see it, "You don't want to know.."


	23. Chapter 23

It had taken the better part of two hours but the moment Wes pulled into the car park I instinctively knew Faust's resting place was nearby. Not that he'd been doing much resting recently..

The albino sharply glanced across to me in an astute way. He took the keys from the Mustang's ignition, "This is the place?" I nodded silently, "Do you need me to get anything from the back of the car? I carry around a lot of general equipment.."

I nodded my head and made a noncommittal noise, distracted. I was shocked at the undertone of malevolence that carried on the air. How could even an untrained weapon like Wes NOT feel it? As soon as I wondered that, he smiled in a sympathetic way, "It's creepy in these older graveyards, right?"

I shook my head, finally working through the lump of fear that had coalesced icily in my breast. I took a long drag of my newly lit cigarette before replying, "I've been here before. This is usually a quiet place...something must of disturbed Faust.." I started chewing my lower lip in a distracted way. I wasn't in the mood for small talk or long-winded explanations, "Get me a shovel, please..."

I took a moment to steady myself with long, even breaths, focusing only on the rise and fall of my chest. I watched Wes in the rear view mirror as he took out a shovel. He turned it over in his palms before slamming the back shut.

He locked the car as I got out, I motioned for him to hand it to me. He declined with a shake of his head and I shrugged my shoulders, his developing weapon muscles would be up to the task. I took the lead and we began to walk the grassy path between the uneven headstones.

"Think we'll find out what?" he asked. I ignored him at first, remembering the evenings I'd spent under the shadow of the trees in conversation with the spirits that still lingered here. I knew which graves to avoid and those that I could sit comfortably upon to read aloud. I had often gone over my notes and some of my most productive work was within the quiet gatherings of the departed.

"I'm counting on it" I replied eventually, tapping off the acclimating cigarette ash with a flick of my fingers.

I stopped and Wes followed my lead. He leant his weight on the handle of the shovel. I watched his fingers curl as the muscles in his upper arm strained visibly under his shirt. I flushed, even though he was doing nothing but waiting and watching me in his usual regarding way.

I pulled off the small, flat black shoes he had bought for me, setting one foot on the floor. I had expected perhaps some small spark of malevolence. Picture a renegade red orb turbulently vibrating against an ocean of undulating blue human souls. So, I was completely unprepared for the lightening flash of intense agony and hatred that lanced upwards through my body.

"Ahh!" I flailed my arms clumsily before regaining my balance. My Shinigami soul asserted it's dominance and dampened the power to a receding, aching throb in my knee. At the same time, I felt a light pressure against my elbow through my jacket and heard a clang.

"Are you alright?" The albino peered curiously at me, frowning quizzically. I realised Wes had dropped the shovel and was holding my arm. I nodded slowly. His sweet scent was distancing me from the nauseating menace emanating from Faust's ruined grave. So powerful, and yet his weapon blood was largely still asleep...

In one movement he moved his palm up over my shoulder; then lifted it to under my fringe. He placed his cool fingers on my forehead, on the spot of skin that he had kissed earlier. I certainly felt a little warmer than usual.

"I'm fine.." I lied, flushing in the face of his concern. I forced a half-smile and moved away so that his arm dropped back uselessly to his side. Something in his expression faltered, like one birthday candle on the cake snuffed out before the rest, "But thank you for your concern," I added, flicking the dying cigarette on the floor, "Come on, we're close,"

He sent me a surprised glance, but picked up the shovel. I fussed to put my shoes back on - I was a little hesitant to touch the earth so readily again. "That seemed easy enough..you really do intend to get this closed quickly.." I was concentrating on disguising my slight limp so I didn't pick up the note of hurt in his voice.

I brushed away the sweeping fronds of a weeping willow that had gotten tangled in my hair, "Of course I want this to be over with," I snapped, "More innocent lives would be sacrificed otherwise,"

I sent him a stony glance when I saw he was chewing his lip as though biting something back. We walked the rest of the way in silence - I wondered if something I said had unintentionally upset him. I instinctively felt when we had found Faust's grave and swept out my arm, "Here we are," I revealed. He rolled his eyes.

I rolled up my sleeves in a business like fashion, "I can see the problem...this wouldn't be the first time stupid kids decided to dare a classmate to come here...maybe Harrington should have questioned the hungover idiots who were in the cells when I arrived," I pointed to the disfigured headstone - it had been broken in half, "If you could dig down to the grave, it would save me a lot of time.."

"You...want me to..expose the coffin..so you can get..t-the bones?" His voice sounded a little strangled. I turned to face him and gave him a glimpse of a half-smile, though I had to admit it was more of a smirk.

"You're a cop, don't tell me you get frightened by the idea of things like this.." I sat down in the grass and opened my bag.

"Of course not!" He snapped. I could have sworn I heard a pout. The steady thud of the spade hitting the earth and rain of dirt began from behind me.

I rummaged through the randomly dubious contents until I pulled out several spindly, white branches. I smiled fully to myself, knowing that he wouldn't see it. A real smile was a rare thing from me and my twin. I resumed searching until I found my lighter and a small can of flammable.

I smoked as I waited for him to finish, watching him in my peripherals so that he wouldn't catch me staring. Digging that hole was making his shoulders and arms flex in some very interesting ways..There was a crack, and then the spade flew out from inside the hole.

I heard the kind of creaking scuffle that could only be a grave opening but didn't prepare myself in time. Up close, Faust's malevolence embedded like hooks into my flesh. I felt the desire to turn and flee, but also to climb into the coffin and lie down beside him..to be close to that familiar darkness..

Wes pulled himself up with his palms on the side of the turf, hoisting his weight out easily. He dusted his hands clean on his trousers and then grimaced regretfully down at the prints, "Done.." he muttered from the down turned corner of his mouth.

"Thank you.." I picked up the twigs and threw them carelessly into the open hole. I glanced inside as I heard them hit something hollow and unusual, "You ugly bastard.." I mumbled more to myself than for any other benefit. The grimacing skeleton on the bed of beetles and rotten wood was no more hideous than any other I had come across.

I took my time to roll another cigarette and pinched it between my lips, now my hands were free to unscrew the bottle. I kept a distance of a few footsteps away from the grave, so I didn't fall in and so that the frighteningly dark impulse was a little weaker. Then, I applied pressure to squirt the flammable liquid. It streamed out like a stream of combustable urine to splatter on the bones below.

I lit the cigarette before I threw the lighter into the grave. The air crackled. Alien, aquamarine tongues leapt up a moment later. Wes flinched back, eyeing the colour of them dubiously, "It's common driftwood, not magic.." I explained. The flames flickered and spat neon sparks into the air. I couldn't feel Faust's negative energy at all anymore. The palpable relief was undeniable.

I took a long inhale. The tips of my hair had began to curl with smoke already. We would now wait until the flames died down, and then fill up the grave. I half fancied leaving the fucker exposed to the elements but it would only alert the media and frighten whoever came across the exposed coffin. Afterwards we could leave.

"The high salt content of the sea bleaches the wood, which causes the colour of the flames," I continued, turning my back on the burning hole. I picked up his discarded shovel, "I prefer natural salts, which are more powerful than buying a shaker from the store...or stealing one from a cafe.." I handed him the shovel, and he took it from me.

The albino sent me a wolfish grin. My insides fluttered and then began to wrestle, "Hey, I'm a policeman. Should you be making those kind of jokes around me?"

I half-smiled, "Sorry...I guess that I just feel at ease around you." I blinked, flushing. Why did the things I meant to stay inside my head keep coming out my mouth? "Damn..did I say that aloud? I'm so sorry," I bowed a little formally, if only to hide my suddenly pink cheeks, "Damnit I said damn!" I triple-cursed. My hair slid over my shoulders to cover my deepening blush.

He laughed in a strained way. We stood there in subdued silence for a moment. Burning Faust had satisfied me a little. However I could feel a faint tug of anticipation in my chest at the thought of sending him back into my fathers arms.

The feeling spurred me on a little, urging me to voice thoughts I usually kept secret. I decided that given the already tense atmosphere I may as well speak some of the things that were on my mind, "Have you..noticed any changes yet?"

He looked taken aback, but recovered quickly and shrugged, "I suppose it hasn't really hit me properly yet..because I haven't transformed physically like my younger brother did.." he studied the length of his fingernails before stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

For a moment, it was quiet again aside from the muted roar of the fire; I looked over my shoulder to see that it displayed no signs of dying for a few more minutes. Maybe I should take the time sensing if there were more graves in need of purification? Or at the least take a walk amongst them to calm my thoughts? Instead, my body refused to budge an inch.

"You would - if we Resonated," I bit my lip immediately, to the point of pain. My eyes welled with the force of wishing back those words. I was confused and conflicted about why I was entertaining these thoughts. I'd be leaving soon, after all.

I took a step away. I wanted to go back to the Mustang before I said something else stupid. But he had to drive us back - to his house where I couldn't avoid him. I had an inkling the return journey wouldn't be much fun.

"Your Father would be fine with us being partners...if we were partners in a more literal sense, right?" he asked in a voice tone. I nodded. He sensed I hadn't understood properly, "Misery...I don't mean just on the case. I may have picked up some subtle hinting on your families part about the continuation of the Shinigami line?"

I forced a laugh. It sounded wrong even to my ears. I hoped he thought the heat from the fire had brightened my cheeks, "My father...he just wants what is best for me, and I want what is best for my family. Everybody-" A large sigh unintentionally slipped out between the words, "-wins," I pursed my mouth, "The Foundation Day Eve party will be so tedious.."

"Foundation Day Eve party?" He parroted.

"It's a suit and tie event held by my father to celebrate the Shibusen opening..." I explained. I wondered what it would be like to have Wes there as my plus one. Would Kid get so irked to the point he would explode and ruin proceedings? I was sure that dressed in formal wear Wes could pass as being symmetrical enough.

"Will you dance?" I shrugged grimly. He chuckled a little at my none too pleased reaction. The sun glinted in his hair as it fell into his eyes.

"That depends if anybody asks me," I evaded. I could sense that he was playfully toying with me. Well, I knew how to avoid questions just as well as he did when situations dictated for it. I glanced over my shoulder again, spitting out the end of the cigarette.

The flames were much lower now, I could barely see them above the yawning gap. I took a few steps closer so that I could ascertain how much further they had dropped, "You can come...if you want.." I muttered. I hardly believed that I had built up the courage to ask, but it could be kind of fun if Wes came along..

"Is this your way of saying you'll miss me?" Wes asked from directly behind me. I tried to disguise the physical leap my body had tried to perform at his proximity.

I crossed my arms defensively over my chest, "It's my way of saying you're going to be my shield so Father doesn't arrange me a date." I smoothed over my features carefully before I turned back to face him.

"You didn't say anything about a date?" he quipped with a roguish grin. It was all I could do to not groan with my face in my hands. I didn't want him to know how easily he could irritate me when he tried.

"I know I didn't." I dodged. I wondered if he was better at playing the good cop or the bad cop in the interrogation room.

"Wait, uh-what? Geez..." He exhaled. I smiled a little. He inclined his head towards the grave, "We'll have to buy you a replacement lighter," I nodded in agreement as he began to shovel dirt onto the smouldering embers below us.


	24. Chapter 24

Wes leaned over my shoulder with one arm outstretched to hold the door as I passed through. Although I was used to it, my cheeks still heated a little whenever my eyes strayed to how his biceps shifted beneath his shirt. It was doubly hard to ignore when his scent enveloped me.

Sometimes I stared at the smallest parts of him - like the slip of skin between his watch-strap and the cuff of his shirt - as if they held great fascination for me. Bits I'd find uninteresting on anybody else. But now was not the time for mooning.

"Martin!" I snapped. I had a skill at maintaining a frown even whilst talking. A few steps away I could see his ruddy complexion pale visibly. I glowered at him from above my hands rolling a cigarette. I had no lighter but was so used to the process of making them I couldn't help but do so. Harrington quickly shut his desk-drawer before attempting a nonchalant pose.

"No tea," I insisted before he had chance to ask. I put the rolled cigarette behind one ear so that I could take out my final report from my bag. I did so without taking a seat. Wes was struggling to comprehend an array of silent, exaggerated facial expressions from Ray.

The older cop seemed to have difficulty comprehending how his work colleague was oblivious to the sensation most felt that made them cross the street to avoid my path. Harrington cleared his throat loudly.

The albino's head snapped around. He stared down at the documents with a horrified expression that one would wear upon realising they were standing naked in front of a large audience. Someone had forgotten his paperwork.

"That is the...collective report, of myself and W- Evans" I lied with less of my earlier authority.

The relief on Wes's face was palpable. However I also felt that he was a little disappointed by how formally I had addressed him. Despite any suspicion he may have felt, Harrington nodded slowly and said nothing.

"Soon there will be no further interruptions from Faust, and then I shall be taking my leave. I expect the money to be in my account. Also.." I steeled my resolve, "I will require Evans for the duration of a weekend, I'll let you know the exact date at some point..you know I don't remember them well,"

I kept my gaze flat and impassive, fixed on the tic worked beneath his jaw, "Ah...Misery, that is most unusual. I fear that I couldn't possibly grant-"

"It is a family matter. And therefore I trust it shall not be a problem," I stood up to imply that was the last that would be said on the matter. This conversation was over.

I used one arm to sweep up the documents I wanted to show to father upon my return. I enjoyed speaking to him when he praised me of cleansing unruly spirits and didn't dwell on how I may get hurt. I pushed them in a little messily and pulled my bag up onto my shoulder, fussing to arrange the hem of my coat against the strap - to distract myself and hide my expression.

"Not at all.." Harrington's expression could not have contrasted further with his words, but his complexion had bleached as though he had felt deaths hand upon his shoulder "Evans." his tone darkened and then lightened considerably a second later as my eyebrow lowered - I was surprised his vocal chords could perform it, "I trust your final write-up will be on my desk as soon as this problem has been rectified?"

"Of course sir," The albino managed to choke out, his first major input in over half an hour. My thoughts since speaking with Wes about the dance were as convoluted as a nest of snakes. I found it easier to think when I didn't look at him.

I smirked. Faust however was a problem that could easily be rectified. Harrington looked frightened by the abruptly sadistic twist of one side of my mouth, and was joined everyone in the office not daring to meet my eyes. It suited my ill mood, "I will take Faust's soul tonight."

"I expect I may see you in a few more months, gentleman," I left the words hanging in the air as I primly retreated from the room. I shut the door behind me so that I wouldn't hear the collective gasp of exhales.

Wes wisely avoided asking about the reason for my swift departure, settling behind the wheel, "Ray gave me this after you left," he strapped the seatbelt across his chest. My eyes picked up the strain of material against his chest. I gulped then went to grasp for the lighter he offered. He kept it just out of my reach with a flick of his wrist, "Seatbelt," he commanded, pulling his snow white brows together. The frown made him look cuter than I would ever tell him.

I clipped in my belt, it was worth it when his quizzical expression stuck. I opened the car window and lit a cigarette, blowing a plume out. My thoughts were as evasive as the smoke, as grey and fragile as the ash.

"Shall we? I rushed us out of the office because I actually have a few other things to prepare first.." I let out another exhale of smoke as he rolled his eyes and obeyed.

Actually, nicotine withdrawal aside those 'other things' had been the reason why I had been so distracted all morning. Keeping my thoughts a blank slate with minor worries occasionally skimming across the surface would stop Kid and my father gleaning any of my plan and 'coming to my rescue'.

The drive back to his house was quiet, I felt the loaded and furtive glances that he kept shooting across to me. I kept mine fixed upon the smoke trailing out onto the road, which rushed by like a blurred water painting beside us. I didn't make a move to turn on any music or twiddle with his radio. I only had one song on my mind at the moment.

He still didn't question about my rude behaviour to his colleagues, perhaps because he was now used to it or he sensed there was something more to it today than just my usual foul mood. The rain cloud that had dampened my shoulders like a sodden cape would not lift.

The mustang pulled into his street. From my peripherals, I noticed his hands begin to clench upon the wheel with the effort of not talking, or asking a question. Although he kept his eyes on the road, I could tell from the blank stare that he wasn't really seeing.

The tension in Wes's frame was evident as he forcefully rode the car with a thud up against the curb. He all but yanked the keys free as though they had done him great personal wrong; even some of the controlled finesse he always exerted seemed to have drained.

Why wouldn't he be angry? I was acting as if any earlier warmth between us had vanished. I flicked the end of my cigarette out the window and wound it upwards, before taking the keys from his surprisingly unresistant grip.

"Wes.." I mumbled. He craned his neck so sharply to turn his head towards me that it must have hurt, "I..." I reached across the space between us and touched my fingertips onto his wrist. His pulse was as strong as the heavy rush of feeling that flashed like a lightening strike between us.

My blood surged and bubbled with such force that my skin prickled. In fright I threw his arm away from me as though it were poisonous. I closed my eyes so I couldn't read what I knew would be injury in his accusing stare, "I'll explain inside. Just.." I broke off. My voice was feverish and panicked.

I ran my fingers through my hair, it was clinging in black and white rivulets to my forehead in the damp tendrils of an unbidden sweat, "Keep the cat away from me!" I snapped, opening the door and slamming it. What were these unusual feelings I was having?!

"Are you...sick? Wait, Misery! Damn it!" I heard Wes punch something solid and couldn't help but cringe a little at the resulting curses. I'd never seen him lose control like that before. He was always so cool and laid back. Echoes of his anger rippled against my soul - sensitive to the currents of his.

I could have done that a lot better, but I didn't exactly have a lifetime of practice at making friends and social etiquette. Raised beneath the towering shadow of our father, me and Kid had no friends because our surname struck fear and commanded instant respect..was that what Wes was? A friend? Somehow I didn't think so anymore..

My hands shook as I lit another cigarette. I shuddered, recalling the uprising of seething emotion that had left my head spinning like an intoxicant. Never around anyone else had I given in to such human, natural instincts...

I scoured my mind for how Wes could have crept under my skin to slip beside my heart. The albino slammed his fist into the dashboard again and swore loudly as the CD started playing. Music. The music room. The song he had played, despite pledging to never take up the violin again. Chaconne. The words he had whispered.

"Maybe I have some crazy idea...of protecting you.."

It suddenly came to me. I felt so silly for overlooking it. Had it been the distraction of the Faust case? Or my own green immaturity? Either way I hadn't realised it. Was I falling in love with Wes?


	25. Chapter 25

I sat waiting in the room of buried memories and music, mutely running through the soaring bars of the song in my head. The derelict room felt lonely. Dust and despair settled amongst the cobwebs in unused corners.

The skeletal music stands mourned a place that was once loved and had purpose; empty instrument cases yawned like open graves. It's white and black decor contrasted to the rest of the open, bright home. The golden figures of trophies boasting past achievements stood as my silent audience.

I had dragged a dusty burgundy velvet chair across so that I would be comfortable as I played with my back to the door. Seeing Wes would only distract me, and I didn't want to mess up the song or not do its beauty justice...

The thought dried my throat so I moistened my lips and swallowed. The grandiose cello leaned for comfort against my shoulder with no more weight than if I held a child to my breast. It lay against me with the ease of a lover as the needle settled between my parted legs to spear the floor. My fingers inched like spiders to position themselves. The bow in my other hand felt like an extension of my wrist.

My fingers silently plucked up and down the slender spine of the beautiful instrument. I had fallen in love it with the first time that I had laid eyes upon it; but Wes had confessed that he had never been able to quite master it.

I had been sat waiting for several minutes. I heard the clink of bottles from downstairs and the slam of the fridge door shutting. My concentration expanded to spread thinner and encompass around the entire house. The cat was affronted it had been locked outdoors again and was hunting mice.

My soul perception sharply flicked inwards like a fisherman's lure to pinpoint on Wes taking a second beer from the fridge. I would bet that he might be considering settling down in front of the television, with his feet up.

I heard his unique pattern of footsteps instead pace up the stairs, then the creak of his slight weight as he settled against the door frame as he always did. I could almost visualise his casually angled head, strong arms laced like steel bands across his chest. Those arms had held me in here.

My soul was so sensitive to every fibre of his that I could have sworn from across the room his breath could still touch the back of my neck, caressing the sensitive skin there. Without a word, I closed my eyes and began to play.

Immediately, the cello let out deep, bleeding strokes as though it were fatally wounded. My head dipped involuntarily as though I were under some trance. My fingers continued to draw out the chocolatey moans. It sounded like the instrument was replicating the lament a lover mourns at the death of its partner.

Chaconne is a different song to every unique set of ears that it graces. For every instrument that attempts to reflect and produce the unison of notes it takes on an entirely new sound and meaning. Unlike when Wes had played it, each knife-strike of the bow held the low, creeping beauty of a grand piano being stabbed through its heart as though I attempted to speak with the lowest of angels. The notes sucked on the marrow of my soul before clawing it free in echoing notes.

The mournful scale gently whirlpooled down into a dangerous darkness, each stroke taking me a step further down the ladder. Unbidden tears dripped down my cheeks. Before I could get dragged down into the spiralling depths I managed to drag the bow higher to accelerate onto a lighter series of notes. The effort left my chest heaving.

I began to realise the song was leading me more than my own motions. It scared me. Something must have changed because although my fingers didn't miss a note, the awakening of the fear inside me stilled something of the musics power.

A bead of sweat, or a tear? Dripped from my chin as I rose my head. I was not aware Wes had moved but his warm hand was reassuringly clasping my shoulder. My body felt numb and the icy instrument suddenly felt like a dead weight with all the charm of a corpse. It prickled in an unwelcoming manner against my dress.

The sweet scent of him cleared my mind like a ray of sunlight breaking through the gloom. I quickly wiped my cheeks and rose my arm to allow him to take the instrument from me. I dropped the bow as soon as he did. My weak body had gained a tonne.

I remained pliant and willing as he gently clasped me on the upper arm and helped me stand, as though I were an injured victim he had come across at a crime scene. Had that ever been the case, I was sure he would have been able to help me feel at ease. It was just what Wes did.

He studied me at arms length and took in my stricken expression with doctor-like precision. We began a slow pace because I heavily dragged my feet and leant against him for support like a woman starved of sleep.

"Misery..." Wes chided. He dragged me to the edge of the bed. He sat down with a creak of springs beside me. How had we made it to the bedroom already? I frowned a little, and rubbed my sockets with the heel of each hand to dispel some of the spell that clung to me.

The albino was gazing at me with an intensity that I couldn't escape. His eyes were so red - so hot. They burned into mine. I felt like if I didn't look away, my glacial countenance would melt. But I didn't turn my head, "You didn't have to play that for me.."

His mouth that usually smiled was set firm, but the look in his sloth-lidded eyes was so pained and worried. I noticed shadows under them - though they did nothing to lessen the pleasing contours. I...wanted to touch reach out and touch him, I wanted to give him a reason for a pleasant nights rest. My eyes traced his face greedily before settling on his mouth.

"Wes...I.." My voice trailed off into the ripe air. An invisible hook settled in my chest to gently pull me towards him. I saw that the same force magnetised him until our lips were a breath apart - a hitched breath we both felt fanning onto our faces, "I think I might lov-"

"I know.." he cut me off, choking the words from between his serrated teeth as though speech pained him. With a tortured expression, he slid his warm hand up to clasp the side of my cheek. His soul quivered next to mine. I felt a fine heat flush to my skin. Aside from Kid and Father, nobody had ever touched me before.

He studied my face against the angle of his palm, turning it as though inspecting a piece of fine art for hairline fractures. I stole the opportunity to gaze back at him, noting how the longer jagged chunks of hair at the nape of his neck needed cutting. I enjoyed the notion of something soft to rake my fingernails through.

My lips parted. I lightly nuzzled my jaw against his hand. His expression snapped and he closed the distance. Our souls rippled. My eyelids drifted shut to accept the first of smallest, lightest kisses on my mouth. It could have been a softly spoken word or exhale. Either way, my chest twisted with longing in response.


	26. Chapter 26 (Lemon)

I wasn't sure what overcame me as Wes's mouth brushed over mine. One moment we were sitting beside each other and he was leaning in with one hand upon my cheek. His soul was so close to mine I could taste it. As soon as his lips met mine, my blood bubbled and I crushed myself against him. My mouth was full of the sweetness that I could smell whenever he was nearby.

His arms came around my waist to steady me, hesitantly at first - as if he couldn't believe my response. Then, natural instinct took over and our kiss turned rough and hungry. Our souls brushed against each other again - harder this time. Reacting, his lips chafed against mine and I greedily grabbed at fistfuls of his shirt. There was a tear of cloth and the sound of a button or two clicking to the floor.

His palms twitched upon my waist, as though he was nervous of where to place them. His nose grazed the tip of mine as he pulled away to draw breath, "I'm in l-" he began. I pushed my mouth back onto his with a passion that was sore and bruising. My soul coyly snuggled up to his before retreating again.

A light chuckle reverberated in the confines of his mouth to mine as our tongues slickly entwined together. Something deep inside of me tightened again with a delicious heat in response. As though Wes could sense it, he skimmed a hand around my waist and over my back as if he wanted to touch as much of me at once as he could. His soul rubbed up against me like a contented cat. Ever so slowly, he used his weight to pinion me back beneath him. His touch was steadying and his honeyed mouth encouraged me all the while.

Then, his warm pressure was gone and I felt the mattress tilt as he lay to stretch out on his side next to me. I let out a cool rush of fresh air, my lips tingling from the harsh treatment. As I regained my senses I felt a sucking sense of disappointment. His soul had floated away from mine again, but something had unlocked inside me to awaken in a throbbing redness.

Before I could open my eyes, a hand touched gently against my collarbone. Wes's soul ever so gently touched mine before distancing itself. My chest began to flutter, what little parts of my skin that remained unflushed heated up. One finger rose above the material of my sweat slicked dress to touch the dampness of my skin. The slope of my breasts heaved.

He rolled me so that I was pressed flush against the line of his body. My breasts pressed up between us and I could feel the unison of our heartbeat beneath his shirt. His soul settled against mine and stayed a hairs breadth apart. His saccharine scent wafted against me in waves and made me dizzy.

"Is this..normal?" The albino asked, his mouth inches from mine. I opened my eyes. There was no need to ask if he wanted this, I could feel that as strongly as I knew I wanted him, "I..I can feel where you want me to.." I nodded my head meekly, my face flaming.

He moved a palm with more force than he had used upon me previously to drag down the curve from my shoulder to my waist. I shivered helplessly. He dipped his head so that the longer of his icy white bangs shadowed his eyes. Our souls were now so close that there was no need for words. A hardness had swelled with surprising girth and force against my thigh to press between us.

The discovery of it increased my feverish pants as a pleasantly warm, faint tingle played piano up my spine. I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth - the place his smile lingered. My eyes drifted shut as my soul whispered against his.

A grunt tore from his chest. My body attuned to it immediately and coiled around him like a vine. My hand moved to massage his upper pectorals and slid beneath the open collar of his shirt where the buttons had torn off. My soul rubbed against his a little harder then darted back playfully.

Wes moved one hand to cup the base of my skull. The other roamed my lower back hungrily, yanking my body closer to his as though there were still too great a distance between us. My dress shifted up with the motion. His soul lapped tiny tendrils of its glowing matter towards me, coaxing before dissipating.

I bent my leg around him so that our groins pushed flush against each other. I didn't know what I was doing, only that I wanted him as physically close to me as possible. The tantalising friction ground a low, animalistic moan from his lips. His hand moved to cup my face again. Deep below the undulating waves of lust I felt my soul brush up against his; like a pet learning to trust it's owners touch.

Wes pulled back a little to study my expression and I opened my eyes. Beneath the mussed hair my cheeks were bright with a blush that fanned from my neck down to my heaving breasts. I would have reddened further if possible as I followed his gaze down towards our hastily arranged clothing. Between our entangled limbs I saw how our hands had frozen, a picture of how openly we sought for each other.

His fingers began to brush gently with a hypnotising slowness across my skin - as though charming a snake. His soul beckoned mine again. My eyes drifted partially-shut. I peeked through my lashes down at the tenting front of his trousers. It looked..big.

At the sight I swallowed nervously and blinked. I met his gaze and realised he'd been watching me all the while. Almost as red-faced as me, the lump in his crotch gave a noticeable twitch. He ran his tongue around his mouth in a tight, nervous circle.

I unbuckled the belt of his that I had stolen. He shifted back to give me space as I rose my arms to peel off the dress away from my diminutive curves. I felt hyper-aware of the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window as it shone across my pale, exposed skin. It prickled into goose flesh as the cold air touched it.

The sweet scent of his soul enveloped us as I watched his eyes trace the flimsy material of the underwear he had surprised me into dropping that morning. Did Wes enjoy that I had worn it? I slipped my hand up his shirt and rested it on the plane of his chest so I could feel his heartbeat. It was in perfect rhythm with mine - as unified as our souls were preparing to become.

I pulled my hand back out and began struggling to slip out the grey strip of his tie. He grabbed my fingers with both of his hands and smiled with surprising warmth, "Let me help you," he unlaced it from around his neck, then fully unbuttoned his shirt. Between us, we tugged it down his arms and he tossed it over his shoulder; I watched the strong muscles of his shoulders flex with a newly awakening maturity.

Now I could see the part of his chest I had been touching. The skin there looked as smooth and inviting as the rest of him. I drank in the carved muscles of his stomach and the deep jutting definition lines that disappeared down into the shadows of his trousers.

My eyes stayed honed to that spot for a moment. I felt a little embarrassed as I imagined what Wes might look like naked in front of me. I'd never entertained the thought about anybody before. He eased himself gently back down atop me, supporting his weight on his elbows. He gazed down at me with intense stillness.

I tilted my head down so he couldn't meet my eye. Could Wes sense the pulsating core between my legs? Abruptly, he began to place the bow of his mouth hotly down the exposed line of my neck. His soul teased up against mine, circling around and rubbing gently but insistently. My eyes drifted shut. I didn't want to think about what would happen after this, didn't want to think at all.

I flinched a little with a jolt of pleasure as his questing tongue dipped into my collarbone and lapped across in long, languid strokes. His soul stroked against mine in unison with his touch. I squirmed as his teeth ever so slightly nibbled at the irritating fabric covering the object of his attention.

His head rose. I felt his breath cool the saturated parts of my skin. One corner of his mouth quirked as through our growing soul connection he understood the extent to which he was torturing me despite this only being the start of his advances.

Wes bent his head back down to nuzzle against one perky, covered breast. My breath hitched, my body jolting, "Wes, w-wait. I-I.." I opened my eyes and flushed, "..I haven't d-done this before!" I admitted, closing my eyes again tightly.

My soul drifted away from his a substantial amount. The sweet, warm air grew chill and stilled between us; the scent of heavy, ripe fruit vanished and I felt an uncomfortable tugging sensation pull as my soul again drifted closer away from his.

The albino held me at arms length and studied me, "Are you sure that you want to?" He asked, sensing my indecision. I opened my eyes and gazed back at him, drinking in his lazy-lidded eyes and the confidence of his hands touching my skin. Had anybody aside from my family ever held me before? What were these fireworks inside of me?

Did I want to lose my virginity to Wes? My bodies instinctive reaction was yes. My attraction to him was undeniable. The more I thought about it, I guessed he would be a skilled and considerate lover. I only had to imagine his hands caressing the violin, and..

I hesitantly nodded, and that was all the reply Wes needed. His soul chased after mine and circled in a tight, dizzying way. He peeled away the cup of my bra to breathe his hot ministrations against one rosy, hardening nipple. I panicked and tried pushing him away, "B-but!" I squeezed my eyes shut, "I-I might not be..very..good.." I whispered.

I mewled with distress as his lips attached around the sensitive bud of flesh and began lightly suckling. His tongue swirled around to graze the aching skin as his soul gently but insistently nudged mine. My body twisted beneath him as it fought to accept the previously unbeknownst sensations he lavished upon me. Then he pulled back again and stretched to his full height. By now, the two of us were laid down on the mattress in varied states of undress.

For a moment there was silence, his knuckles moved against the skin of my stomach and we both looked down to marvel at the comparison of his arm encircling my waist as though he could hold all of me together in one grip. He moved one hand onto my cheek and brought his face in close enough that the tip of his nose grazed mine, "Just follow my lead," Wes muttered.

Then, with newly fashioned vigour he pressed his mouth onto mine, slipping in over my lower lip. His soul massaged mine until I was certain of the urgency of his need. I arched my back so that he could unhook my bra with ease, unaware that the gesture brought my breasts invitingly close to his chest. My nipples gently grazed against his skin. The simple movement made them aflame with welcomed sensitivity.

He clasped one breast in each hand and gently massaged the soft mounds. Ever the artist, he rubbed each between a thumb and finger with alternating motions and massaged the under curve of my breast with his others. I felt like an instrument he was gauging, trying to find the perfect pitch. Despite the arousal that stiffened them, my nipples softened into rose petals beneath his ministrations.

Wes ground his hips into my waist so that I could feel that distinctly hardened part of him that my eyes had hopelessly been drawn to earlier. My soul openly sought out his and the two pushed against each other. My mouth circled with a moan and he plundered his tongue inside until I was left minutes later little more than a quivering, vulnerable mess.

I felt a little embarrassed about lying here in only my panties when he still had his lower half clothed - but his trousers seemed a daunting task to try and remove with my inexperienced fingers. The concern vanished as one hand began to lightly tickle beneath the hem of my panties lower than anyone had ever touched, "A-ah!" I squeaked, pushing my hands up onto his chest.

He caught my jaw again in his free hand and continued to kiss me. Wes brushed my neck with trembling fingers that betrayed his leashed control, his other hand dipped lower into my underwear to teasingly circle the moist folds of flesh hidden beneath. A tendril of his soul lashed out and coiled around mine.

I moaned with an embarrassing volume and buried my heated cheeks into the crook of his neck to attempt to drown the noise. The hand traced lower between my legs that automatically tried to clamp shut against the invasion. The tiny spark threading between our two souls vanished.

"Is...this hurting you?" I heard Wes ask hesitantly. I nuzzled my face into his sweet scented hairline and clamped my lips lightly onto the sensitive slip of his earlobe, "Misery~!" he choked as his body gave a violent, submissive heave. His weight gave in to collapse atop me in a heavy, panting mass.

In the inadvertent slip his full finger entered my tightness without first probing the entrance. Pain and something entirely more enjoyable coursed through me at the intrusion. My teeth clamped down onto his earlobe until the sting passed, "Unh~" A breathy moan escaped into his ear. Our souls rippled beside each other.

Wes pulled away from me and the mattress as protested noisily as me. I opened my eyes and squinted, blinking several times until my head cleared. The albino's hair was a mess and his mouth looked bitten. The pink flush continued to progress into a red blotch on his neck.

I felt a slick, fine sweat from our ministrations gathering on our skin...looking down further at his hand partially disappearing into my panties I guessed that I held much the same bedraggled appearance as he did. He appeared surprised and displayed an almost puppy-eyed guilt. It was so unexpected that my chest lightened as I giggled.

Wes gave me a smile that reached the depths of his eyes and of myself. I was a little distracted as my giggle had forced my inner walls to convulse around his finger. I glanced down to his hand and noticed the top of his erection was peeking up from his trousers.

I asked myself again if I wanted this. If I continued, there would be no going back. The answer was unavoidable. I'd never felt sensations like this before and I felt utterly safe and secure in his company. My soul evaded his in a playful game of chase, but our compatibility was too strong to overlook.

"Can I...touch you?" I asked hesitantly, my hands suddenly feeling useless and heavy - unsure of where to put themselves. I fought against hiding in the curtain of my hair. I had that embarrassing sense of inexperience again. His soul rubbed up to mine despite that it had chilled noticeably.

The albino nodded, "You don't have to ask," he smiled easily again. He unfastened his belt and guided my trembling hand to just gently rest against the front. I could feel the hard ridge of what looked to be a painfully contained erection beat with a pulse all of its own. He placed his hand around my neck afterwards, as though he enjoyed the intensity of our nearness and craved to keep it.

I moved my thumb slightly and it twitched like an awakening animal beneath my palm as I watched. Wes sighed happily as though I were relieving him of some great pain; I looked up at him to notice his eyes had closed. It made me bold enough to carefully inch the thick burden free until it rested heavily inside my lightly clenched hand.

Experimentally I tugged a little. The live human body was so interesting. It could do all kinds of things a dead one couldn't. We both groaned as his finger inside of me animated to flex, every knuckle a knot of pleasure as it stretched me. A star spat from my soul to hit the side of Wes's soul. Our eyes met as he opened them. He seemed a little embarrassed I had been studying his instinctive reaction and the enjoyment that had unfurled on his features.

The albino abruptly removed his hand from between my legs. I clamped my lips shut as the unusual sensation hit me. Our souls drifted apart. When I saw that he intended to remove his clothes completely, I closed my eyes from embarrassment. I heard a rustle and the clink of his belt hitting the floor. My soul moved a further distance away from his. Wes stole the opportunity to quickly whisk my panties down to my ankles and over my toes whilst my eyes were shut.

"Eep!" I squealed. The sudden rush of cold air which seeped between my legs told that I was completely unstitched. My cheeks heated and my eyes stayed firmly shut. My embarrassed soul quickly streaked far away from his. I felt his lips kissed delicately up over my knees. His hands began to gently caress my thighs to try to coax them into parting.

Butterflies rose in my chest and I felt my quickening blood rush to pump a steady tattoo inside my ears. He kissed higher up my leg and closer to my inner thighs inch by agonising inch. His soul drifted into close proximity with mine, humming. His goal was achieved as his questing, hot mouth finally found my set of secret lips. I quivered as his tongue lapped in an upwards motion.

Immediately, he began to use my body as though the key to it were any other instrument. I opened like an unfurling flower beneath him as his tongue thrummed steadily to beat me into submission. Snakes of his soul lashed against mine like fire. My spine arched. He hummed happily and the vibrations curled my hands into fists so tight my knuckles bleached while.

He caressed against me with long, attentive strokes and waves of pleasure rocked me. I moved my hips to buck up against him, one leg rising to crook over his shoulder. As the tide urged me closer to some unseen border that I had yet to cross, I trembled a little in concern at the complete loss of bodily control I had.

My soul cast threads of its matter to wrap around his soul. Suddenly I gave in, handing myself in body and mind to the man who could attune my reaper body better than I could. Wes made contented noises breathily against me and I grabbed at fistfuls of his hair with such strength that several white strands came away under my fingers. He moved his tongue to tickle against my screaming clitoris so that he could insert a finger back into the free tight, darkness below.

Keeping an easy pace, he slowly circled the wet, slick ribbons of skin as his finger pumped gradually for a few agonising moments. My heart pounded viciously as he pulled himself upwards to settle atop me lightly. We were going to do that already?! I opened my eyes and painted crimson beneath him.

I planted my hands on his hips and exerted enough pressure that he understood and rolled over beside me. With a worried expression, he cradled his head under one arm and regarded me with a steady look, yet I couldn't dismiss that they wandered to take in the rest of me. The sparks between our souls died as our proximity distanced.

I took a second to do the same, at how he was laid out all muscles and ease with himself before me. As though this Adonis were all too reachable. My hands ached to touch him more. I scooted down and he interpreted the movement and manoeuvred onto his back so that I could access his abdomen easier. I stroked over each each delve and carve before one settled and the other grasped his erection firmly with a confidence I felt I lacked.

It was becoming easier to gauge his emotions. Right now he felt excited but cautious - for me, he was wondering if I really wanted to go this far. I brought his throbbing head up against my newly moistened lips, rubbing with circular motions. He sighed with relief again as I opened my mouth and accepted a generous portion of his girth into the warm cavern inside. His soul shimmered.

I felt the encouraging pressure of his hand on the top of my head and licked the length of his shaft with my tongue. I swirled it around the head as I glided my mouth upwards and then back down. After a moment of this I tried to encourage my hand to rock the lower half in unison. I felt his entire body tremble beneath me. His soul began to quake as it rested against mine.

I began sucking harder and deeper on the length of him. His breathing became laboured and heavy. I lightly prodded the tip of my tongue against his slit - it tasted indescribably of him, "Ugn~!" he grunted through clenched teeth after a few moments of laboured breathing.

I yelped as he abruptly shoved me and slithered agilely on top of me again, pinioning between my legs so that I felt him rest solidly against me. His soul whipped out lines of light and encircled mine. On the physical plane, his erection dug into the corner of my inner thigh. I began to worry if this was going to hurt.

Wes aligned his hips with mine and kissed me on the mouth so that I could always associate the pain with sweetness as he slid fully inside of me. My sore entrance stung as it reluctantly began stretching to accept him, "Ah~! S-Soul Reson-!" I gasped, but he drowned my words with moans as he started to gently rock his hips. A kindling fire sparked between our souls and the middle of my legs.

"Not yet.." he warned me hastily between hot, showering kisses. I had time only to breathe, not form a response. One hand cradled my cheek, he tweaked playfully on my right nipple. My thighs tightened to the point of pain around his waist as my ankles locked behind his back. I thrust with the friction-pace of him etching his way deeper inside the tight confines of my body. More beams issued from both of our souls to penetrate each-other.

To distance myself from the initial pain I concentrated on touching as much of him that my hands could reach. Time gifted me the luxury. I rubbed through his hair with my fingers; finding out which places he preferred when I raked my nails lightly across his skull and he moaned. I sculpted down his neck and his upper back heaving beneath my hands, as though I was committing him to memory with every touch.

I copied his hand from where it deftly rolled each of my nipples and groped at his chest, kissing at the places my mouth could find on his flesh and stroking where they could not. His hands on me grew more feverish as the pace at which his hips rocked intensified. I closed my eyes to a pleasant, angelic blue aura as I began to see more than just our combining flesh and primal urges.

"W-Wes..!" I moaned. My hands reached around to grab at my own ankles, digging into the skin of his perfectly sculpted behind. The albino groaned as much and eagerly as myself, half mumbling and shouting my name between agonised pants. His soul gyrated against mine and mine responded in kind.

He worked himself into more of a frenzy and then suddenly rose his head upwards so that all I could see was his broad chest and chin as he tossed it back, "I love you.." He whispered feverishly. Our souls were so close. I could feel it just as I could feel him inside of me. I felt full. For the first time in my life the hollow sensation I carried had vanished.

"Wes!" I repeated with greater urgency than I recognised. My hips began to clumsily chafe against his with an unspeakable neediness. He suckled down on my neck to placate me. In an attempt to quell me shouting his name he rolled one of my aching breasts in his hand. I shivered straight to my soul. Then he reached down between us to it to twist the fragile, alert skin above my clitoris as he plunged deeper inside of me.

"Ah! Ah~!" I choked out between greedy exhales of delicious air. It it became increasingly difficult to contain my thoughts or gain any control over the proceedings. My body attuned to accept his, sliding over some edge of reluctance to finally fully accept him, "Wes-kun~!" I groaned against his lips.

He suddenly stopped and adjusted slightly, manoeuvring so that he braced his arms above me. I mewled anxiously with pain as the new positioning caused him to slide that last agonising inch deeper until he was firmly gripped inside of me. I feasted upon the strange, beautiful creature our bodies presented connected to one another. Our souls radiated undeniable waves of pleasure so intense I could feel it wash in waves lapping over my body and consciousness.

Sheathed fully inside my heat, he slammed up against my crotch with a wet slap. My eyes closed again and a helpless sound was torn from my mouth. Spurred into continuing by my gratified noises, his testicles swung to beat against my thighs with exertion.

After a few minutes, his hand moved to steady his grip on me by clasping one cheek of my behind. One moment his soul was beside mine and the next the barriers slipped. I bit down on a high keen as I saw a sudden cleansing rush of white behind my closed lids.

"S-Soul-" I whimpered in a voice that didn't sound like mine. His soul slid into mine and I felt a hot explosion of fluid erupting inside of me, "-Resonance~!"

I was Wes, and he was me. Both of us were inside of each other, looking at each other and at the same time still a part of ourselves. His thoughts were inside my mind and I felt everything that he did, as well as my own thoughts and the pleasure bestowed upon my own body. It was the most bizarre yet intimate moment I'd ever experienced.

The albino gave a final thrust and we moaned wildly in tangled, musical unison. He fell against me and all I saw was comfortable, blessed darkness.


	27. Chapter 27

"I thought you said you had some sort of plan?" Wes lifted his dubious gaze from the setting night around us. He rose an eyebrow at me with a sigh of frustration "Then, you give me some bullshit directions -"

I shyly placed my hand on top of his where it fisted around the clutch. We both looked down at it silently. He finally stopped the ceaseless complaining that had started as soon as we had clambered into the Mustang.

Since waking up in an entangled embrace an hour earlier I had been quiet and meek around him. The bedcover he had draped up to protect my modesty had chastened a little of my raging embarrassment.

He'd insisted on kissing every inch of my skin that he wouldn't allow me to use my own hands to cover - grumpy all the while as I clothed myself, coddling and rubbing the nub of his nose deliciously against my neck. I'd dressed in such silence that more than once he had asked me if there was something wrong.

I'd smothered my shamed giggle when I saw the long line of bruises patches stridently disappear to beneath his collar. Still, my lingering affection showed in the way I locked my fingers with his free hand when he had locked his house. The cat had hissed at us with narrowed eyes from beneath the overgrown shrubbery next to the step.

Of course, Wes had as usual every right to be angry and confused as I led him blindly into this mess when I didn't have much confidence or faith in myself to begin with. But I didn't want him to learn that.

The knowledge would only worry him and if he set his mind to it he could drive me away to put as far a distance between ourselves and this town as possible. There was a threat in his eyes that he would do just that. However, his heightened emotions could easily provide a spotlight to our location for evil eyes.

Using my soul perception, I had directed him to a nondescript, shadowy area off one main road that was set aside for private parking. It was empty now aside from the waiting trees which leaned in as though to listen. As I watched, the shadows around where we parked darkened to a more sinister shade of black.

"Well, I do have a plan.." I let out a deep breath to steady my voice so that it would not betray the emotions that I felt, "Faust is interested in strong female souls, so he's been trying to focus on me. But my soul is smothered because of its proximity to yours.." I rubbed his knuckles soothingly to try and unclench them, "So, he should predictably turn up when my Shinigami soul dominates. He'll sense it,"

"Like a moth to a flame, I'm sure.." he retorted scathingly and snatched his hand away to show he thought I was stupid. To be honest, I felt a little stupid, too. Reckless on a giddy high that was tinged with darkness as I began to cave in to my Shinigami urges.

Wes was also honed into this through our wavelength and it was costing him more effort to hold his temper in check as a result. He disliked waiting for something to happen. Unfortunately, for now that was what we were doing.

"What the hell happened to you that made you feel so damn suicidal?" he accused me after several minutes of unpunctuated silence. I stifled a quiet sigh and fervently wished for a cigarette, and played with my hands in my lap.

"Even your father doesn't want you to do this.." he continued when I didn't respond. He slammed his free palm on the steering wheel from where it had been gesturing wildly in the air. I tried not to flinch, "That isn't a plan, that's you deliberately putting yourself in danger for some god forsaken stupid-!"

There was a squeal of protesting metal as though a deep score had appeared. "What the hell-!" Before I could stop him Wes frantically unrolled his window. He ducked his head out to check for any damage. There had been a reason I didn't open the window to smoke.

"Wes, no! Don't!" I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and yanked him backwards with as much force as I could muster. He grumbled as his head hit the back of the car seat.

The leering face that filled where his shoulders had been a moment later made it all too evident his mild discomfort and maybe a small headache later was worth it. The disfigured head rotated eerily upon its neck.

Faust mustn't have been much of a looker in life, but death had been unkind to him and scorched away any humanity to leave only the ugly, evil essence. I couldn't fight him rotting trapped inside a car. I offered up Wes an apologetic smile. His eyes clamped down immediately. I wore no seatbelt.

My hand quickly opened the car door. "I'm sorry.." I muttered with a half-smile; severing the tie of our wavelength between us. I jumped out as he stretched out his arm, his fingers grasping at the air. I ran away from the Mustang and with a screech the wraith soared upwards to follow me.

Faust doggedly pursued the naked scent of my power. I heard the branches scream in protest as his skeletal arms reached high to shred down spiralling leaves to slow my path beneath them. It would take more than a little slime on the ground to make me miss my step.

Breaking the wavelength with Wes had left an unsettling ache in my chest. However I'd always known his presence here was a backup plan. If possible I wanted to end Faust without putting Wes in harms way. I took a few more minutes of calf-burning speed to hightail as haphazardly as I could. I faintly discerned the albino had gotten out of the car. I prayed he wouldn't come after me.

The rough, rocky ground rose unevenly upwards to hamper my movement. I was forced to pay a little more attention to my footing. Ringing, maniacal laugher suddenly rang stridently as a burning pain flashed through my right calf.

I immediately span around on the injured limb, concentrating past the pain instead to focus a narrow light purple energy at the tips of my fingers, "Soul shot.." I muttered before casting my hand with a flick and firing it away. It pierced the darkness like a comet leaving a lilac trail behind it.

It hit something and I heard a nonhuman shriek from a mutated jaw. I glimpsed a shadowy form cringe and ripple away from the beam with a watery disregard for physical limitations. I stayed for a moment too long to watch the amethyst light disperse into darkness.

With an ugly scowl I turned to run again, biting down on my lower lip to distance myself from what I looked down to see was a nasty scrape from his talons along the back of my calf. After some time, I took a temporary reprieve behind the trunks of two thick trees that grew together like unseperatable lovers. My yellow, Shinigami-ringed eyes spiralled to take in what threat could linger inside every patch of darkness before closing.

I settled my breathing and cast out my concentration to locate Wes as fast as I could - this was the equivalent to blaring out for Faust's attention. But I had to know that he was okay. I gasped at the sudden awareness of a soul close by me. Before I could move into a fighting stance, Wes curved closely beside me with his back to the trunk.

I could see his police training was kicking in and that he had taken his gun from his belt. It wouldn't be much help, but I figured telling him that would only spook him. Damnit! I'd wanted to avoid dragging him into this if possible. I guessed he had found me through our soul bond rather than chasing blindly.

"When are you going to realise you can't put yourself in danger as easily now that I'm around?" he whispered furiously, aware now that he had to keep his voice low. His eyes flickered to watch every shifting shadow before us, "You've been hurt.." he concluded simply. I felt his anger was flimsily restrained.

I noticed then that in our proximity his trousers had seeped through with the blood pouring from my leg. I looked down a little dizzily, noticing in a detached way that the wound was worse than I had thought. I rose my hand to my temple as though my brow throbbed with a headache.

"I'm sorry.." I repeated again in a whisper, smiling to show that I was grateful he was here. He didn't return it, but I felt his soul warm to mine a little as I rested my weight against his side.

He coiled an arm around my waist to steady me, so that for a moment I entertained the beautiful simplicity of just continuing to stand there tucked warmly in beside him. But that couldn't happen. I turned my head to look up at him, "Wes, I need you to put the gun away.." I mumbled, "Please, just trust me.." I whimpered a little with pain as I adjusted one leg,

"Right, because everything has worked out so well doing that so far.." he sighed huffily but clipped it back onto his belt.

I considered our options. Wes was more vulnerable than me in his current state and it would help our situation greatly if I awakened his weapon blood. The metamorphosis caused by stirring it had been gradually progressing over the last two months. Meeting my Father, our mutual attraction and the Resonance earlier had only hastened that process.

I squatted down on the floor, keeping my eyes sharp for movement. The air was as still as baited breath. Wes leaned against the trunk. I swallowed and decided. But this wasn't going to be an easy favour to ask, or for him to answer regardless of what he chose.

I craned my head to squint up at him. The moonlight haloed his head and turned the white hair silver, "I need you to become your weapon form for me," I whispered. I hoped the darkness hid my flushed cheeks, "..That is..if you want to," I babbled. I felt selfish about making the request, "..I know its a lot to ask. But it would be very helpful.."

He knelt beside me, "Y'know I've given this a lot of thought.." He replied in a low voice, "I thought of what Granny would have wanted me to do.." He stared out into the trees, "...She would want me to protect what I hold dear to me," he concluded. My soul fluttered inside my chest.

I stood back up and offered him my hand, "There's no going back from this.." I warned. He grabbed my hand and I helped hoist him upright. I made to pull my hand back to my side afterwards, but he held on tighter.

He offered me a wide grin. The moonlight glinted on his fangs, "I knew that the moment I met you," he quipped.

A half-smile crossed my face despite the imminent danger that we faced. Wes just had a way of keeping me calm..but it was me who was going to be guiding him from now on. At the very least he was going to be startled upon experiencing his first transformation although he'd witnessed his younger brothers.

I pulled his fingers towards me and bent my head, resting my forehead against the top of his hand. With the movement, my soul floated towards his and grew fronds that waved enticingly. I closed my eyes, allowing the memories of our earlier Resonance flash to him through our wavelength.

Wes's hand stiffened beneath mine, he grunted and I gripped it a little tighter. I didn't want to rush him, but we didn't have much time. My soul beckoned his again and the pale blue orb responded. The night air turned fragrant with the scent of honey.

I bit down on a moan as our souls merged together. Suddenly, my mind was crowded with his thoughts and feelings. It was a little overwhelming all at once. So, it hadn't been just an orgasm between us earlier - the feeling of pleasure also came from Resonating. I didn't have time to dwell on the sensation because a bright white light blossomed through my eyelids.

Wes let out a strangled gurgle. I snapped open my eyes, expecting to see Faust screaming through the leaves towards us. Instead, the albino was staring in disbelief at his other arm. A black and silver bow rose smoothly from the stump of his wrist to flow outwards to almost encompass the height of my body.

He let out another choking noise. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the elegance of the curved metal. I noticed that it had no string or visible ammunition, but I'd had no idea that Wes would have such a beautiful weapon, and this was in its unmastered form.

"What!" He shouted, "W-what the..I mean..!" I covered his mouth with my hand. I had been prepared for his shock but we couldn't afford any unneeded loud noise.

A slight rustle on the breeze was all the warning Faust gave us. With a long howl he tore like a cyclone through the air. I noticed his yellowing fingernails were encrusted with grave dirt - I would have to get some antiseptic on my wound so that it wouldn't get a nasty infection later. The albino gave a muffled curse.

I dropped my hand and started to think of ways I could divert Faust's attention from Wes until he was acclimatised with his weapon form. I threw him what I hoped was a confidence inspiring glance, then concentrated on pushing my immense wavelength outwards as a barrier, "Woah!" The albino stared at the glowing circle.

Faust flinched away from the orb of light surrounding us. I focused the rest of my wavelength to Wes, willing it to go through him rather than push him around. Although my powers were weak by Shinigami standards, to a new weapon like Wes Resonating with a strong soul like mine could make him lose his mind.

I sensed Wes's frame shudder and heard him intake a sharp breath, "That light.." I risked a glance back and saw that thin filaments of purple thread had appeared at the ends of the bow. They stretched and connected but then disappeared. I could feel Faust ceaselessly trying to find a weak spot in my protective wavelength.

I closed my eyes, focusing only on the black behind them. I blotted everything else out, even though it was difficult. Scent, sound..Faust..my nicotine cravings. Every worry..Even Wes. The darkness expanded and I fell into it. I drew deep upon my Fathers blood pumping in my veins.

The barrier slowly manifested into that of the unmistakable shape of the infamous Reaper mask. Wes gulped as he felt the new power ride tangibly upon the air. The shadows on the ground moved of their own accord, slithering into my shadow until it grew substantially larger.

I frowned and honed further. The darkness surrounding me poured inside of me until I was full of it. I became a part of it. My hair whipped up with an unnatural breeze and my Sanzo line shone. My soul expanded outwards from my body. I heard Wes gasp. So, he could see my soul now. I guess it was pretty intimidating to a first timer.

Although I didn't stumble, my head sloppily fell forwards onto my chest, "Misery?! Are you okay?" Wes put his human arm around my shoulder and held me to his side to keep my upright. He gave wary glances at the ugly monstrosity pacing just outside the confines I was struggling to maintain. It was hard to concentrate when his concern was interfering.

Right. Wes. I had to concentrate. I brought myself back from the pool of darkness. It was no easy task. I felt the urges of madness clinging to me as I swam to the surface. But, I managed. I opened my eyes. The moonlight picked out a red line ringing around my yellow irises.

I grabbed Wes's bow-arm and held it out, "W-What are you doing?" He asked. I had no time to explain to him. I had a theory that Wes's bow worked the same way as Patty and Liz Thompson, my brother's twin pistol weapons. Both guns fired compressed bullets of their wavelength. It was possible that Wes's string and arrows had to be constructed in the same manner.

"Follow my lead," I advised and steadied his arm. I moved it to follow Faust's unpredictable movements as he threw himself erratically against the barrier. I could feel the protective orb weakening. I had to line up this shot before it shattered.

I tried to slow down the churning tide of my power so Wes could float amongst it rather than be tossed around. The purple thread appeared again at the end of his bow, faltering once before strengthening. As I acclimatised my power to his by holding most of it back from our wavelength, he strove to meet his limit so that we could be on some mutual level.

"Soul arrow," I commanded. A narrow beam of intensified light shot free from the end of Wes's weapon arm. Simultaneously a spurt of blood erupted from one of my nostrils. The arrow shot clean through the barrier harmlessly and effortlessly pierced into Faust's chest.

The evil spirit looked down helplessly. The arrow protruded from his chest, burning away the spirit-flesh it touched. Faust tried to hopelessly pry the scalding object free even as it charred the flesh from his hands. With another bloodcurdling scream he caved in upon himself until all that remained was a red orb. It hovered in the air, beautiful and innocent in its simplicity and yet unmistakably malevolent.

I sagged against Wes's side. With a flash of light his arm changed back to normal. He gripped me with both human hands. My eyes drifted shut, "Keep it safe..." I tried to raise an arm towards the soul but could only manage to twitch my fingers. So tired. I licked my salty mouth, tangy from blood, "For me.." With a dizzy half-smile I distantly reminded myself to treat my leg as I slid into unconsciousness.


	28. Chapter 28

I laboriously swam up from the haze of what I felt had been a long sleep, fighting with the clinging tendrils of it. My arms struggled to move from where they felt like lead pinioned to my sides. The vulnerability of being unable to raise them worried me. In my concern, I opened my eyes too soon.

Harsh, unforgiving light was all I caught before my eyes closed protectively. It had only been a second, but tears welled up behind my lids. The world beyond them was too bright for me.

"Good, she's awake. That means she's fought off the last of the infection..although with her blood, I had expected it to be sooner...so there may be some residual damage.."

A cool, female voice assessed my progress in an offhand way. I heard the rustle of pages turning. My mind struggled to sharpen. When it did, I opened my eyes again. This time they stayed open. I immediately heaved myself upwards to flail wildly - something tore free with a sharp pain from the crook of my arm.

"I shall tell Shinigami-sama immediately!" An older, deep male voice responded. Both voices were familiar but I hadn't heard them in some time. My head jerked, neck painfully twisting with the exertion. I couldn't see with my weak vision to whom the mans voice belonged. The door slammed shut.

"Wes!?" I shouted hoarsely. I couldn't feel him anywhere and I was too weak to send out my soul perception. My pulse fluttered with panic and the machine monitoring my heart-rate started beeping loudly.

My eyes finally adjusted the hospital covers which had been clamping me down like a straight jacket. A jug of water sat temptingly close on the cabinet beside me next to a paper wrapped cone of flowers. All at once the urges for water, rice and nicotine assaulted me. I groaned, "W-Where's Wes..?"

I greedily lunged for the jug only to fail. I shook my useless arm with a dumbfounded expression. It was encased thickly in plaster. The cable snaking on the floor had left a small, darkening bruise from where it had been feeding a clear liquid into my better arm.

"Misery, how nice of you to finally join us. You're in the nurses' office at DMWA," Nygus perched at the end of my bed and consulted something in the clipboard she held in her thickly bandaged hands. She set it aside and poured me a glass of water. I accepted it gratefully and drank it so quickly I almost choked. She poured me out another and I took smaller sips.

"One of our students Kim assisted in speeding your recovery with her healing magic, but as you can see you have a broken arm and I wouldn't advise rushing out of bed with your leg in its current condition.." she sternly admonished, knowing it would be one of the first things I tried to do.

Her pale blue eyes stared intently at me, trying to deduce something. I tilted my head downwards to avoid the astute gaze peeking out from her bandage swathed face. Nygus was covered in bandages, like an Egyptian mummy. The fabric contrasted sharply with her chocolate coloured skin and enveloped her down to even under her white lab coat.

"Did an albino police officer come in with me when I reached here?" I asked. Nygus tapped her foot impatiently but knew that I was couldn't be dissuaded.

She took a moment to measure what would be worse - mental exhaustion from worrying or the possibility I'd overexert myself. Finally, she nodded with a bristle of her dreadlocks to a tall shadow on the other side of the privacy curtain. I hadn't noticed it. Was I that tired? The silhouette stood with its hands in its pockets and slumped shoulders, blocked by the modesty screen. I instantly knew it was Wes.

I pulled myself up from the bed and put the glass aside. With a need stronger than thirst for water I began to stagger towards him, careful to put my weight onto my better leg when my healing knee immediately shook, "I need a smoke.." I complained to myself.

"You are to go have an audience with Shinigami-sama.. he requested it for as soon as you woke up," Nygus reminded me. She shook her head again at my own ignorance to maintain my health.

I didn't bother with slipping on my shoes, my clothes were in tatters that hung from my frame. I dragged the privacy sheet across with my good arm. I watched as Wes turned slowly at the sound of the noise with a slow, unfurling smile once he saw that I was back up on my feet.

I noticed the albino's shirt was soiled but mainly intact, one sleeve missing and entirely ripped free from the arm that had changed into its weapon form, and although his belt and gun were missing he seemed in a better state than myself with a slightly swollen split lip.

The bruises of passion on his neck could easily be mistaken as wounds from the fight now, and he'd only allowed the worse of his scratches to be patched up. I guessed he denied any magical form of aid. He immediately placed his thankfully now human arms around my waist, worrying that I would keel back over if I took another step without him.

"Wes-kun..." I muttered tiredly in a timid voice. I rested my head weakly against the slope of his chest, allowing the weariness and then consuming wave of relief that it was over to ride me.

Strange, just a handful of weeks ago he had been too awkward and shy to even sit on the same side of a mattress as me. At his side I felt a little stronger, as though the proximity of his soul alone healed me..

"Misery. Your father." Nygus sternly admonished through a crack in the curtain. The weapon-nurse would have picked up on our joined wavelength when she healed me last night. However it wasn't her place to openly voice her opinion. I knew it echoed my fathers opinion, though.

I suppose to her, Wes was a stranger that had suspiciously appeared beside me. I'd wasn't in the greatest of health. He'd probably been subjected to some serious interrogation as she went over his damage.

I looked out from under the protective wing of Wes's arm to see that she was staring with a little hostility at our casual closeness with one another. I flushed a little, remembering my place now that I was back within the walls of Death City.

I stepped a pace away from him with my head shyly ducked. I wasn't sure if I had managed to conjure a portal myself or if my father had brought us both here himself. Had Faust's evil soul been completely destroyed or simply contained? There was so much I couldn't remember and a lot I had to find out.

"We should go...we don't want to make him waste time summoning us.." I warned him drily with more than a little truth to my words. Geez, I wanted a cigarette so bad I could taste it..

Time to face the music. Honestly, I was unsure if Wes attending as my chaperone would exactly please my father...and I didn't want to get a difficult conversation started on bad footing. I wondered if Kid would be there or if Father would want to speak with me in privacy first - although I couldn't think of anything he couldn't mention in front of my brother.

"Well.." Wes seemed to be choosing his words carefully. He roughly massaged the back of his neck in that charmingly familiar manner, "Alright then." he struggled, but managed to ease another unworried smile on his ruined mouth for my sake.

He walked away to hold the door open for me, studying my reaction as I cringed against the sudden noise from a tide of students flocking past with their own purposes. I wondered when I would run into somebody else I knew.

The crowd passed for us easily enough as Wes stood easily a head higher than anyone other than staff. By the end of the stone corridor I acutely felt the heat of many gazes on my retreating back. With his unusual colouring and my distinct resemblance to Kid, the two of us made quite an impression. It wasn't just my nicotine withdrawal making me edgy.

The albino said nothing but as the swell thickened he moved to stand just behind me. His large hand rested firmly on the curve of my lower spine. It anchored me even better than the glass of water.

"It won't take us long...even though most of these corridors may look the exactly same to you.." I half-smiled at him over my shoulder. I recognised the unique arrangements of the Shinigami mask themed decorations and art that littered the walls.

Wes gazed at the gothic architecture and high, domed ceiling lit by flaming torches. His fingers gently rubbed the narrow of my back as we walked. This was one of the more haunting corridors than the cheery, modern ones above where the NOT students took easier and less dangerous lessons.

A student's question threaded out with distinction from the crowd; "Hey, doesn't that guy kind of look like Soul?"

Wes's head turned at the sound of his brothers name before looking back down. His white bangs fell down and hid his eyes. If the running into his stubborn younger sibling hadn't already been forefront on Wes's mind, it would be now.

"What is he doing with Shinigami-sama's daughter?" I heard another voice queried as the stares intensified. I clutched my injured arm closer against my chest. My bedraggled appearance was sure to gain some concern alone, "I've not seen her back here since I was a first year.."

I was eager to evade them before somebody dared to come up and address me directly. I concentrated on blocking out the gossip and almost missed the familiar blonde waterfall of hair against its red tank top. At the last moment, my weak wavelength sensed the light pink soul.

"Liz?" I asked to the female figure coming out from the toilets. She immediately turned and gave a reserved smile as she saw me. I guessed by her lack of shock at my appearance that she had already looked in on me as I recovered.

"Misery! Kid has been worrying about you!" She admonished me and gave me a good, searching glance to find an unharmed spot before lightly touching her hand to my shoulder, "Have you not been told that Shinigami-sama wants to speak to you?"

I nodded, but the twin pistol was already distracted. She peered at Wes with a finger pressed thoughtfully to her glossed lower lip. I felt a little jealous at her perfected appearance in comparison with my own. As soon as I realised that I was surprised with myself. Liz was a younger student and I'd never felt envious towards her before. Was it because of the way she looked at Wes?

I shook my head to clear my thoughts before remembering she expected an answer, "We're on our way there now. Please, don't tell Kid how injured I am..I need a little time to think up a better explanation," I offered up my open palms to indicate that currently I didn't have much.

"He already knows, he came in to see you with some flowers as soon as Nygus deemed it suitable," I couldn't suppress a low moan. I rolled my eyes at the agonising 'friendly sibling chat concerning your safety' that I would be forced to endure the first chance me next saw me. He had probably been lecturing me at my bedside as I slept.

Liz rose an eyebrow, "You've...humanised.." She pointed out delicately. I frowned. I didn't feel any particular kindness towards Liz when she openly spoke about how I wasn't fully human. As if either myself or Wes needed reminding. Just like that, she switched topics, "Your friend looks exactly like Soul,"

"I've heard.." I began to wonder just how alike in comparison the Evans' brothers were. Was it was so obvious to everybody else? Wes had began to frown again. I took a hold of the crook of his arm with my good hand. I sensed a mistake as Liz's clever eyes latched onto it in a way that I knew meant she was speculating for future gossip.

I began to attempt at pulling him away - it was a lot less difficult when he was compliant, but he seemed rooted, "Well, I'll speak with you again another time.." I excused, unsure of what I could tell her which she wouldn't have to relay to my brother.

I dragged him inside the first vacated room that I could find and held it open to wordlessly invite him inside. I followed him and shut the door behind me. He sat on the edge of one of the desks that filled the classroom and folded his arms in a confrontational manner across his broad chest.

I watched his well developed muscles tighten with the action and a lump formed in my throat. I slowly moved to laboriously stand in front of him, dragging one leg slightly. There was so much that needed to be said and yet I couldn't find the words.

I reached up on the tips of my toes, wincing as my leg protested. I brushed my lips gently against his, then again a little harder when he didn't pull away. His eyes drifted shut as I poured all my concern for his safety and need for him into the kiss. His soul quivered gently and I closed my eyes.

I passed a hand through the bangs hanging at the nape of his neck and his body seized up with a shiver. His delicious tongue gained access into my mouth as I opened helpless again before him. Before I lost myself within him, I broke away and he grumbled.

Wes guided me slowly so that I was perched on the reassuring bulk of his lap with no weight held on my legs. He slid each of his hands on top of my thighs to cover them. Despite it not being a sexual advance, my skin tingled and tightened under his.

I twisted so that I was facing him and caved back in to the urge to kiss him more. Within a minute we fiercely battled tongues in animated, hungry silence. Our hands played doctor - gently prodding and probing inquisitively with pained gasps and sharp exhales at our sore spots or scratched skin until the need for air broke us apart.

He moved his hand from gently stroking my ribs to toy with a strand of my hair. I rose my hands to it in a panic as I envisioned the mess that it must have become in the attack. He smiled and curled some behind my ear. I remembered when he had accidentally touched it after a few beers in his living room - it felt like an age ago. At the time, we'd both gotten embarrassed by that.

I stood back up. It was difficult to keep focused around him a lot of the time. "How are you feeling?" I asked. It was my primary concern aside from the potential ear-bashing I was going to soon receive from Kid and Father.

"I feel great to say that I woke up in Nevada," Wes responded truthfully. I was sure that I could have sensed if a lie stained his soul. He pressed a chaste kiss against my cheek, "But we have a lot to discuss...after we've spoken with your father, and when you feel better..of course,"

"No more secrets, I promise." I knew that it would silence a lot of his doubts simply by hearing me firmly say it. I peered up at him through the thick web of my lashes in what I hoped was a demure way, "Will you still attend the Foundation Day Eve party..a-as my date?"

I quirked the corner of my mouth in a hopeful smile which he kissed cleanly from me, "Of course," he willingly agreed against my lips, just as I'd wished.

Despite knowing better, I stole a few more minutes to close my eyes and enjoy the simple, pleasurable sensation of his tongue exerting his acute need by rubbing expertly against mine. Our souls happily drifted around and through each other - I shivered with the intensity each time it happened.

"Huh?" Wes grunted with shock unexpectedly and took his mouth away from mine. I opened my lids to bright skies and sand upon which floated black crosses. I flinched away from him, feeling my cheeks redden. I sensed the huge, unfathomable yellow soul that encompassed beyond the entire room and deep within it, and a sombre but powerful crimson soul that I knew as well as my own.

"I guess we took too long after all.." I mumbled through my deepening embarrassment. The urge for nicotine intensified.


	29. Chapter 29

I squinted beyond the imposing guillotine arches. The slight figure of Kid stood atop the raised platform. Even from here, his stance seemed rigid and he was clearly waiting for me. Stood next to him was an imposing, larger dark blot that was my Father. He hadn't conjured a tea set. I had the distinct impression that despite the tension during our last meeting this one would be worse.

I took a chaste step apart from Wes. Less than a second later, a white glove snaked through the air. It clamped entirely around the circumference of my waist and lifted me up. I was unceremoniously picked up like a scornful child due to be disciplined over to my Fathers side. My hair lifted with the movement before settling. I guessed Wes would be left to walk behind me.

Father's hand shrank until it fit to rest possessively atop my shoulder. I felt the throbbing undertones of his relief that the outcome of fighting Faust had not been worse, "Chichiue.." I bowed my head deeply.

Damn, for the hundredth time I wanted - no, needed! A cigarette. But, I had no personal effects upon me. I guessed that unless I ran into Professor Stein, I wouldn't be having one anytime soon. A very dismal prospect.

I kept my eyes politely reverted from either of them. Finally, he sighed from deep within the confines of the shadows that formed him. I knew that I could now cast my gaze back upwards. I immediately noticed that the cheekbone angles of his Shinigami mask had sharpened a little to maintain some of its former frightening appearance.

"Utsukushi musume..." He scolded me gently. My chest caved in emptily. I thrust myself heavily against his side to burrow into the warm darkness, the years stripping away until I was again just a younger self learning a valuable lesson, "What trouble you still give me.."

"I'm sorry that I disobeyed you.." I admitted pitifully, feeling some healing relief in stifling my sobs with my arm around him. He rose one hand to gently tap a Shinigami Chop atop my head, "Also that I caused you worry, Kid-ani.. I hope that I didn't distract you from your own missions.."

My twin glanced up at me. His luminescent eyes briefly exposed tenderness before he turned his chin back down. Shadows filled the warmth as his expression smoothed. He was in control of himself once more. It had only been a moment, but his soul told me how concerned he had been.

I scrubbed the wet patches on my cheeks ineffectually and sniffled as a cut stung with the salty liquid. Kid's posture stiffened rigidly. I sensed Wes had joined us upon the podium. I limped over towards him as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. I prayed he would keep his mouth shut. Getting involved in our complicated family issues wouldn't bode well for him.

I wanted to reassure him with a brief touch of our fingers..but in the present company it was unthinkable. His multifaceted expression was a little muddled, however I sensed he felt more at ease than the last time he had been inside the Death Room. That said, no warmth currently emanated towards him from any of the present company beside myself.

"You'll find it heartening to hear that Faust was completely eradicated.." Father informed me. I felt another cleansing wave of relief. The albino also experienced it through our shared bond. I sent a quick half-smile at Wes that I dropped before he could return it - I didn't want to appear smug, "But I am very unhappy at you for directly disobeying my orders by purposefully using yourself as bait!"

I began to try and defend myself, explaining how I only wished to spare more pain to others. Before I could gain a little moral high ground I was rudely cut across. It was a one sided argument anyway, "..However, had I been there..Misery would not have had to lift even a finger," Kid spat scathingly as he spoke for the first time.

Needasmokeneedasmokeneedasmoke...

I had to manifest great control to stop one eyebrow from raising in disbelief at my brother speaking out against an older man. His pitch escalated as he began to give into his neurosis, "Therefore not a single hair on her head would have been touched to ruin her beautiful symmetry!" he flourished with one spidery hand, "I can barely stand to look at her in the repellant state you have returned her!" Well thank you for the compliments about my appearance, oh kind brother - his words caused my mouth to pout.

Father hardly helped the matter by patting him on the shoulder appeasingly. He pinned us with a heavy stare from empty eye sockets, blaming us for this outburst. I only felt further chagrined that either Kid or my Father had probably lent me some of their power to kill Faust..or perhaps Wes partially in his weapon form had provided a valuable amplifier for my own.

Such tactics hardly worked on me - I knew that even choosing the wrong pair of shoes on certain days could cause Kid to have a melt down - but I resented that Wes might feel guilty. Father hummed, "Your sanzu line is much thicker..." I looked at the silvery chunk of hair from where it fell down against one breast. Of course, the oldest reapers keen eyes were correct, "...A physical response from your Resonance I expect..."

I flushed and curved my head automatically towards Wes's arm to seek out comfort underneath the warm steadiness of it. At the last moment I pulled away again, my soul distancing itself despite seeking his out moments before.

I had expected that the particular topic would rise at some point. I just hadn't prepared myself for how soon it would have been. Now all I felt that I could do to not worsen the situation was bow my head apologetically in response.

Father bounced a little on his black coil-like lower exterior, "Wes, I have to speak with my children in privacy as we discuss matters of a more delicate nature. Misery can be very difficult when she is feeling headstrong..with that in mind you have my gratitude for bring her back into my keeping," I churlishly puffed out my cheeks and was sure Kid would be enjoying this, but I also felt secretly pleased that my father had thanked him.

"It was no trouble for me at all, sir. Really," Wes accepted with feigned assuredness that I could sense he wasn't truly feeling. I gave him a deadly look. He should remain respectful, "..But before I leave I have to say that my feelings towards your daughter far exceeds that of my duty as her weapon," I was stunned at the emotion that coloured a new depth of feeling to his tone.

In the heavy silence that followed, my Father pondered on how he would respond. Kid sent me a worried glance that I could not think of how to dispel. I wondered if Wes had intended or practised those words beforehand.

I couldn't believe he had stood up to my Father - The Grim Reaper - and spoke so strongly! Imagine how nerve-wracking it must be to meet the parent of the girl your dating - now imagine that he could tear your soul out if you don't treat his daughter well!

I couldn't help but pick up the vivid intensity of Wes's words. Contentment rippled pleasingly throughout my stomach. I struggled against the swooning magnetisation that wished me closer to him. I couldn't seem to find a safe enough spot to focus my eyes. I knew Father would sense that the albino spoke the truth.

Finally, my father rose his head. He scratched thoughtfully at one tooth of his mask with a finger. "Spirit Albarn is waiting outside so that he can escort you to a room we've put aside in the lower dungeons - its usually reserved for our more troublesome guests.."

I cringed a little, had Father really deemed it appropriate to tell him that? Also, why did Wes have to spend time in Spirit's lecherous company? Five minutes alone with the lustful Death Scythe and he might become an entirely different man more prone to act on his instincts.

"Misery shall see you at the party this evening.." Father added as though it were an idle afterthought. Joy burst like a blooming flower inside my chest. I was glad that I would at least be able to see him and relieved that he had my fathers' permission to stay within the walls.

"I'll walk you to the door," I offered immediately as Wes nodded politely to both of them. I sensed he was eager for a few seconds, that whilst not in privacy, at least were not under the direct stares of my forbidding family members. Though not within physical earshot, I knew the distance would grant us no reprieve.

I waited until we had passed under the foremost of the red arches before I reached out to clasp his fingers. He gave them a tiny squeeze, "Albarn.." He repeated thoughtfully, "That was the name of the red haired man who stood outside waiting for you to wake up so that he could report back to your Father,"

I glumly nodded my head with an inward scowl. Great, they'd already met. My body was now almost shaking with the intensity of worry and nicotine withdrawal, "Just don't tell him anything.." I sternly advised him. Spirit would know from past experience that the bruises on Wes's neck just weren't from a violent scuffle. My frown dissolved as Wes tickled my palm with his thumb.

"Didn't your father mention that he intended to set you two up last time we were here?" He jovially commented as though it had only just occurred to him. He chuckled as I summoned the last of my energy to elbow him in the side. It was worth it despite the pain.

All too soon the door stood before us. I darted a quick glance over my shoulder before stretching on the tips of my toes to kiss him. It was chaste and quick but held an unspoken wealth of emotion.

"Fine, I know when I'm not wanted.." he grinned against my mouth. I felt the sharp edges of his teeth. I pulled back with our hands still clasped between us, seeing that the corners of his crimson eyes crinkled with good humour.

"You are..." I glanced down to the sand coyly. My good foot circled on the floor. I quirked one corner of my lip, "...Very wanted.." I completed shyly. He gave my palm a reassuring squeeze.

He bent to open the door and breathed into my ear, "You shouldn't speak to me like that, it's very testing.." My chest tightened with an instant heat in response. He opened the door and closed it after his departure.

I was sure that my cheeks had cooled by the time I had paced back. My Father was animatedly bouncing. His mask had regained its button-eyed charm. Kid broke his formal stature to roll his eyes in an agonised glance at our Father.

He hopped repeatedly on his spiralling shadow limb, "Oh Kid, be as happy as I am that everything turned out as planned!" he cajoled happily. He enthusiastically slapped his large palms together, we both winced at the loud, resounding clap. It echoed around the room.

My lips parted with surprise. I managed to rectify my mouth immediately - I became more animated when Wes was nearby. I had to work to reign myself back inwards. Liz had been right when she noticed that his proximity humanised me, "I thought you didn't deem Wes suitable?" I had to ask. He clapped again. I flinched at the thought of what fresh pain a Shinigami Chop could offer me in my fragile state.

"The Evans have a long history of astounding musical talent in the family...but he doesn't come from a particularly bloody background..." He placed a finger upon his mask as though he were reconsidering, "Nobody will be ever good enough for you in Kid's eyes~!" he crowed. He smacked an unprepared Kid with such force between the shoulders that the youngest reaper stumbled forwards with an aghast expression.

"I distinctly remember that being your impression, Chichiue.." He argued dryly. I was astonished to see the warm traces of a quick smile. One of my arms twitched to raise automatically to hug him. I pinned it back to my side.

My father gave a booming laugh as though it were nothing. He waved a glove, "Well, I cannot be angry when I have both of my favourite-"

"-Only-" Kid interjected.

Cigarettecigarettecigarette-cigarette...

Father continued speaking over him, "-Children by my side with a scant handful of hours away until the festivities begin! Misery will look so beautiful in the dress that you picked out for her!" I pinioned my brother beneath my gorgon gaze to curse him with my full attention.

My twin wilted, "You didn't.." I hissed out through clenched teeth. I knew that there had to have been a logical explanation for his sudden acquiescence. He had probably spent hours amongst piles of the Thompson sisters' fashion magazines, drawing out multiple plans to make a dress to his own exact specifications.

Kid raised his hands up protectively. He took a cautious step back away from my darkening aura, "We have to dress symmetrically! You know how important this is to me!" he wailed in anguish and closed his eyes, "Everything must be perfect!" he howled. He clutched his temples, beginning to rock on the balls of his feet.

I thought of Wes. He had done so much for me..I could do this for him, right? "..Fine" I huffed. My twin's face turned rapturous and I shuddered. I had to have a smoke, I just couldn't deal with right now this otherwise.


	30. Chapter 30

The dress was black and white, of course. A cloth manifestation encompassing Kid's lifelong particulars and the entirety of my nightmares. It's simplicity began just covering my bust to leave my chest and shoulders perishingly bare. I blushed just thinking about the amount of my skin that would be shown.

It sharply tapered in at the waist with black panelling for the ribbed corsage, fanning beneath in sharp, symmetrically cut strips of sheer white silk. A band wrapped tightly around the middle, emblazoned with a Shinigami mask that had a bow on one side. The female reaper mask was kind of cute. I took one look at it and envied geisha for their greater ease of movement.

I was currently sat on the black, silken sheets of my large canopied bed. I'd called for a bowl of rice to be brought up to my quarters so that I could regain my strength. I chain-smoked to quieten my other needs. My bedroom was just as opulent as the rest of the mansion. It had an ensuite, vanity table and yawning windows. I had expected to feel some relaxing sense of ease from the familiar surroundings of my bedroom and the corridors beyond it. However, all I could think of was where Wes might be.

I could picture the albino leaning with his arms folded against one of the ebony pillars wrapped with muslim, regarding me with that stripping, levelled gaze. My weapon..I wasn't used to calling him that yet. I flushed like a guilty teenager at what had happened between us. It could all too easily happen again too, if I could sneak him into my room. I doubted my father would appreciate it.

After I bathed, Liz had entered my quarters to help me struggle into the dress and pin back my sanzu line. I didn't complain, because the quicker I was ready the sooner I could see Wes. The pistol twisted a chunk of black hair into an elegant knot at the base of my neck and fixed it in place with a black cross, leaving the rest to cascade prettily underneath down my back. I was glad that it grew long enough to cover my exposed shoulders.

We spoke a little and exchanged pleasantries. It was easier now that Kid had calmed down - or was just otherwise distracted by the nights proceedings. My twin would be dictating that everything must go to his extensive former planning. Even my ugly bandages had been covered with black strips of glittery silk and the lace thigh-highs hid the unsightly cut on the back of one knee. My body was healing quickly but it would take another day to be completely repaired.

The elder sister daintily threaded two identical cross earrings through my lobes, then clasped a choker around my neck. It was velvet and had a tiny female Shinigami mask hanging in the middle. She took a step back to regard the finished effect.

"Kid really had full reign with this..but you got a better half of the deal.." she commented with a small smile, "I've been practicing how to walk in the stupid shoes that he picked for weeks!" She complained, going on to describe what she and Patty were being forced to wear.

She span me around on the chair and began applying makeup to my protesting mouth. I slapped away her hands. "I'll tell Kid you're being stubborn!" She threatened, putting down tweezers to plant her hands on her hip. She didn't look any less threatening without them. She'd used the torture device to pick out errant hairs from my eyebrows for over half an hour.

She gave me her best 'don't mess with me' look. I promptly sulked as she primped and preened the rest of me to the best of her ability for another few minutes. When she had finished I felt like there wasn't an inch of me that hadn't been plucked or perfected.

"Thank you.." I muttered wearily. I had to admit that my reflection wasn't exactly displeasing.

Washing away the dirt in the scalding jet of my shower and the ensuing pampering had brought back most of the appeal of my appearance. I felt I could sit with my spine a little straighter because of that. Liz knew how important tonight was to her meister and she wanted him to be happy. I suppose that I did too, even though I felt ridiculous in this outfit.

The older Thompson leant over me and grabbed a pink lipgloss from the dresser. She peered into the mirror and applied it, "Of course..you'll want to look nice for Soul's brother, too," she smacked her lips together and grinned. Her eyes met mine.

I blinked. My cheeks heated up through all the powder she had applied. I didn't need to wear rouge now. "W-Wha?" I squeaked.

Liz laughed. She seemed to be warming towards me now that I was displaying more of the human traits I'd picked up over the years, "Don't act so shocked that I know," She waved the lipgloss tube at me before putting it back down, "It's obvious to anyone that you like him.." She shrugged with a small smile, "Well, maybe not Patty.."

I realised my mouth was open and closed it. It hung back open again immediately. I stuttered for a full minute as she nonchalantly continued putting on her makeup. I couldn't think of a thing to say. Finally I choked out, "T-there's nothing going on between us.."

She finished applying mascara and rolled her eyes. With the lengthened lashes it had quite the effect, "Tsk. R-i-i-i-ght," She drew out the word agonisingly slow, "Well, if there isn't..something will be soon," She surmised, picking up a pencil. I didn't know enough about makeup to know if it was to shade her eyes or eyebrows. She began to line underneath her left eyelid. It was used on the eyes, then.

"He'd have to be an idiot to not fall in love with you with the way you look!" She announced as she finished, "My makeup skills are an artistic legend.." She smudged the makeup to give her eyes a smouldering effect, "Boys will be falling over each other to dance with you tonight!" She straightened up and flounced her hair. Not for the first time, I wished that I shared her confidence. It was a very human wish to have.

I stared down at my lap. My knees were suddenly very interesting. What should I say? Did I want to talk to her about this? I'd never had 'girl-talk' with a female friend before, "I..I don't think it's like that," I mumbled, "I mean..I don't know.." I admitted, becoming frustrated, "I don't know what it's like, okay!" I almost shouted. Why was I getting so worked up?

Liz looked up from the collection of nail varnish colours she had been perusing and rose an eyebrow at me. Abruptly, the feeling of wanting to throw something vanished. I suddenly felt very small and confused.

Did I truly know how Wes felt? He was human and well..I wasn't. I couldn't emphasise...only replicate. I fisted my hands. No, he wasn't just a human..He was a weapon. My weapon. We had confessed our love and our Wavelength made all our secrets opaque.

"I-I've..I've never been in this situation before.." I whispered timidly.

The pistol raked her fingers through her hair, "What, in love?" She asked nonchalantly. As if it were that easy.

My fists tightened until my knuckles bleached white, "I didn't say that!" I defended.

She giggled in an airy way, "You didn't have to. Like I said, it's kind of obvious.." Liz flapped her hand in an unconcerned manner, "Well, if you're not interested I'm sure somebody else will be.." She smirked, "..Older men are better for steady relationships..hm, I wouldn't kick him out of my bed.." She stared at me, openly waiting for my reaction. Even though I knew she was baiting me, I bristled.

"He's my-!" I yelled, then clamped my mouth shut. What was he? Certainly more than a friend, and even more than my partner. The word boyfriend seemed silly, it didn't contain the explosion of feelings I felt around him. Plus, he hadn't asked me to be his steady.. "-Weapon.." I finished in a subdued voice.

She clearly didn't believe me, and waved her hand again, "Pfft, whatever," She shrugged my explanation off, "Everybody already figures your both in love. You just can't admit it to yourself.."


	31. Chapter 31

"Walk right next to me!" Kid sternly instructed over my drawn-out moan, "Keep your pace even to mine and make sure your strides match exactly!" He flicked imaginary dust particles from our shoulders and ensured they were the correct distance from mine. I blew out a plume of smoke in a silent but defiant way.

He wore a black silk shirt, tailored to encase his slim muscle definition. It complimented his black and white striped tie - he must have counted every band of colour on to ensure that there were eight. The colour of his trousers matched my lower skirt and he wore a black belt with a Reaper mask buckle. He looked like a Shinigami rockstar.

Father chuckled whimsically. He seemed in good spirits, although he had reason for concern. The last time this event was celebrated the snake-witch Medusa had infiltrated the party and Death City was attacked. The threat of that particular Kishin was long gone but many students would forever wear the scars.

I sighed, but knew better than to ask if this was really necessary. To Kid, it simply was, "Misery, please~!" The youngest reaper whined in a nasal pitch. He clasped his hands under his chin in prayer. I gave an undignified grunt that could have meant anything. I was conflicted - I wanted to see Wes but also run very fast in the opposite direction from the room he was in.

My twin began to lecture his weapons on the method of symmetrical arm-swinging. I should have figured that Kid would have scheduled some gracious performance to signify our entrance rather than letting me slip into the crowd as preferred..But naively I'd hoped.

At least after a few pinches and adjustments he had been pleased with my appearance. The twins were immaculately groomed in two black and white striped dresses that mimicked his tie. The design of the Patty's dress disguised the obvious rivalry in the bust department to Liz's. She wore spiked heels twice the size of her sisters so their height matched. They both looked beautiful and deadly.

I took a long, cleansing breath and reminded myself that the quicker this was over the sooner I would be able to see Wes again, "Okay, let's go!" My brother drilled. He plucked my cigarette out and threw it aside. I scowled at him, "Exactly as we practiced!"

I stepped out into the dim light behind the back of our father as he led us into the room. I felt everybody staring and knew many of the fresher students had never seen me before. I kept my face stony and impassive. Think intimidating reaper thoughts..My blank gaze glanced over everyone but took in nothing. I didn't want to lock eyes with someone and break my facade by blushing.

Every hour with Wes was a struggle not to smile. I only had to bring to mind some of the intimate moments we had shared to feel a flush work it's way up my neck. At least I didn't have to talk to everybody! Father would conduct his formal speech which Kid would probably elaborate. I had no part to play other than that of the silent daughter.

The guests walked backwards to ring around the outer confines of the room, watching our entrance. As a distraction, I remembered the instructions Kid had given me about the seating arrangements and glanced around. I had to admit that he had done a great job with the decorations. As always, he strove for perfection.

The Shinigami mask was the prevailing theme. Kid had achieved it with three triangular entrances which opened out into the circular room. It was bordered with perfectly aligned chairs and tables, most of which were empty as people stood to receive us.

Tiny, shimmering clusters of lights cast a gossamer glow. It rippled across the rims of painstakingly arranged identical crystal flutes. Of course only fruit punch and soft drinks were available for the students with wine reserved for the adults and staff.

The appetising heaps of buffet food looked untouched. The party couldn't start until my father was present, of course. I knew that I couldn't stomach picking through dead meat for something that I could digest. It was a definite way to ruin my appetite, so I was glad that I had eaten earlier.

I placed myself on the side of my Father on a diminutive replica of the glittering throne he sat upon. The chairs were made from towering stalagmites so black it was hard to see where Father's body began and the stone ended. My brother regally positioned himself beside Father in an identical seat to mine. We were set so that seated together three of us imitated the eyes and nose of the Shinigami mask. Very clever, Kid.

"It has been a far better year than the last.." Father began. I set my eyes on his long, forbidding shadow, drawn out by the impressively positioned lighting arrangements. The floor was checkered like a chessboard. It made me remember of the game me and Wes had played in his bedroom. I wanted to scan the crowd and seek him out, but I didn't want to end up catching somebody else's eye instead.

I slipped out my soul perception. The feedback was crippling. I fought to not twitch as the rushing sea of souls all reached eagerly out for my attention. I was glad to see the pale yellow web that draped over everything in the room, including its occupants. My Father's soul hugged the walls jealousy and reached up in sparkling protective tendrils to cover the ceiling. He was been curious.

I let out an in audible sigh to relax and concentrated on finding Wes. It was difficult because of the multitude of Weapons and Meisters gathered. Before I managed to trace him, a resounding cheer shook the room. It indicated the end of Kid's speech.

The music cranked into life and the formalities relaxed somewhat. I sensed everyone in the room drop their guard all at once. With my soul perception awakened, it was an exhilarating sensation that almost carried me away with it.

"Misery-musume, perhaps all this was too much for you, hm?" Father asked concernedly, "Now that the preliminaries are over I suppose you are free to retire when you choose.." He gave me a pleading glance to show he hoped that I wouldn't. If the large population of souls constantly ramming against my consciousness for attention grew too exhausting to continuously guard against, I knew that he would rather have me resting.

I glanced quickly around the room. People seemed to be talking in groups and Kid was distracted making sure everything ran to his schedule. We had some short privacy before the staff came to plead an audience or exchange important news. I took advantage and gifted him a shy smile. Both corners of my mouth lifting up simultaneously felt weird.

Father stretched out and tapped a light Shinigami Chop on my brow, "Death should not always have to be so sour faced!" He advised in a warm voice. He spoke so kindly that my eyes rimmed with tears.

I carefully slid down from my chair and went to weave my way through the crowds. Luckily, most people moved out of my way once they saw me coming. I was presently even more fragile than my appearance indicated. I searched for the familiar white head. Being at similar height to most of the students wasn't an advantage to me.

I spotted a tall, slender figure with pale hair. My heart leapt. The man turned and I realised it was Professor Stein in his stitch patterned suit. After hiding my disappointment, we exchanged pleasantries before he offered me a cigarette, "Thanks," I took it and moved on.

I avoided Spirit who was wasting no time in asking any eligible lady of suitable age to dance with him. In my haste I almost knocked backwards into somebody, "Sorry.." I mumbled. I cocked my head to one side, "Oh.." I linked a pink glow of healing magic to the source. It was inside the witch soul of a girl with a plain but pretty face beneath her short hair. She was slight and nondescript, which belied the strength of her regeneration power.

"You're the student that healed me..thank you," I nodded and she blushed, surprised that I had acknowledged to thank her.

My soul perception pinpointed towards a black curtain. The kind of tug I couldn't ignore. The curtain hid an entrance leading out onto one of the DMWA's scenic balconies. From them, the distance stretched out beautifully interrupted for miles beyond the walls of Death City so far below the steps.

"Excuse me.." I nodded again and made my way immediately over. I grabbed the curtain to push it aside, then froze as I sensed that Wes was not alone on the other side. I wasn't eavesdropping..I just didn't want to barge in and interrupt! Despite knowing better, I waited another moment. Words bled into my ears through the cold night air...

"I guessed we were gonna run into each other..People have been noticing our little family quirk all day," I didn't recognise the male voice, but he said the words 'family quirk' as if it was an affliction. Was this the infamous Soul, Wes's younger brother?

I picked up an orange soul strikingly similar to Wes's aside from the jagged grin and the rage of aggressive, battling emotions. Instantly I knew that this had to be Soul, and that he struggled daily under the influence of Black Blood. Worrying..but I knew that my father would be aware of all of his students. Soul wouldn't be here if he presented any danger, and I'd been told he played a valuable part in defeating the last Kishin.

I heard two tired chuckles that held a remarkable lack of humour, "I assumed you were avoiding me - like my phone calls," That was definitely Wes. I knew from the way my stomach instinctively rolled and then turned itself inside out. It felt a lot more pleasant than it sounds.

I stiffened, wishing that I had never heard the start of the conversation. I felt that I shouldn't be listening, but wasn't sure on the correct social etiquette to continue. Should I just walk away and pretend I was never here? As I worried, Soul answered defensively, "Not exactly..I do have my own life and stuff going on, y'know..."

His voice was similar to Wes's. It held none of the contained, assured warmth in himself and his abilities. It came from a younger, more sardonic set of vocal chords. But I could still connect the subtle inflections that came from being privately tutored in articulation.

"Right, your partner with the pigtails.." Wes replied knowledgably, touching on an immediate nerve.

I toyed with the cigarette to roll it thoughtfully between my fingers. There was a stretched silence. I made a move to pull back the drape and stopped again, "So what? You're a weapon too now?" I heard a theatrical sigh, "Couldn't leave me one thing to be good at, huh?"

I heard Wes force out a false laugh. It echoed in a hollow way. I could easily picture him fixing his tie or scratching his neck to betray his unease, "Seems like you've matured to be a lot smoother with the ladies than I have, Soul.."

I heard a twist of loneliness in the albino's voice. It instantly made my feet move forwards to slip between the curtains before I had even realised. The brothers stood bathed in moonlight with their backs to me. Despite the argument, they both leant over the side of the balcony-railing in similar positions. Both had their chins rested propped on their arms. They were so alike even as they clashed against each other.

"What, Maka?" Soul asked impassively. He shrugged it off like the notion hadn't occurred to him. I could detect the strain in his voice as he strove to conceal his true feelings. So he was the kind of person to choose a witty retort to brush off any attempt at serious conversation, "Well, I always was the cooler brother.."

"Excuse me, could I please interrupt you two?" I shouted over. They snapped their heads towards me in unison, the light of the grinning moon giving their hair in an ethereal shine. Wes straightened up immediately and gained a good few inches in height between them. He grinned, his fangs flashing. His soul told me how happy he was to see me.

"Misery!" he called. I took a moment to study and compare the similarities and differences between the two. Soul was shorter and had none of his older brother's confident assurance. He shared his genetic abnormality and strong jaw which would be handsome once he grew into it. Rather than identical twins, Wes looked more like a glimpse of who Soul would become.

I walked over. With each step the air thickened with the tension between them, "This is my brother, Soul.." he gestured with an empty wineglass he held casually in the tips of his fingers. I nodded because I wasn't sure what to say. What did someone say in a situation like this?

Wes was dressed in a white shirt and impeccably neat black tie. Somebody - hopefully not Spirit - had loaned him the suit. I knew that he would never fit into any of Kid's. It draped from his shoulders as though his entire body had been carved intended to wear it perfectly. He somehow more himself than I had ever seen him. Was this a reflection of the man who had lived and loved only for the violin; his family's honour?

Soul finally turned his full attention on me. The younger albino wore a deep red shirt. It was unbuttoned at the throat but tucked into his black uniform trousers without a tie. His spiky white hair was untamed. The earlier acceptance of his demon weapon had granted him longer, more deadly serrated fangs which were harder to hide than his brothers - not that he seemed to want to.

"Soul Eater," His brother corrected with a forced impassivity. He openly ogled me with more naked curiosity than most dared. Was it because I had caught his brothers interest or my status as a Shinigami's daughter? Even at a party like this, he could never speak out of turn in front of someone who through blood had the same status here as the staff and Death Scythes.

He wasn't the only one staring. Wes was eyeing me with a naked hunger. I couldn't deny his attention was flattering, but now was hardly the time. He seemed oblivious to Soul who had raised an eyebrow. We stood in tense silence. Should I have waited for Wes to find me? I felt bad about interrupting their discussion. It seemed there was a lot the two needed to speak about even if Soul was doing his best to deny it.

"It's very rude of you that I've had to wait until now to tell you how beautiful you look," Wes jokingly chided me in a gentle tone. I was surprised he had spoken so boldly in front of his brother, but I shouldn't have been. Not after what he had said to Kid and Father.

I flushed such a deepening red that even the moonlight may have been able to pick it up, "I'm sorry.." I shyly ducked my head into the shawl of my hair. Wes chuckled, in unison the two of them tousled their hair. I tried not to stare at how similar they were.

Soul drew his fingers away from the back of his neck, "I should get going..Maka's probably looking for me," he gave a curt nod to us both, "It was..nice to meet you.." He said without meeting my eyes. I honestly couldn't tell if he meant it or not, and I usually found humans easy to read, "Wes," he grunted.

He sauntered off with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his trousers. We stood and watched him vanished between the cloth partition. I guessed Maka was his meister. I'd heard a lot of good things about her. Her Anti-Magic Wavelength and Weapon blood had finished my brother Asura for the final time. She was somebody else that I wanted to meet.


	32. Chapter 32

Wes stared at the place Soul had stood. An unguarded multitude of raw emotion skittered across his convoluted expression. He failed to hide them as he turned to me, giving me a strained smile. I guessed that conversation had been painful for him - and Soul only seemed to make things harder for the both of them. It seemed like everybody was having difficult talks with their family today.

I crossed the last of the distance between us and leant my lower back against the balcony edge. His soul told me that he appreciated my silence as he collected his thoughts. We stood there in peaceful quiet, broken only by the buzzing of night insects. I cherished it because I knew that there would be questions to come and answers to give later. For now Wes seemed content just to have me there, and of course I was happy to be reunited with him.

I twisted my head upwards, counting the fathomless amount of glittering stars on the other side of Father's soul barrier. My neck was still a little sore, like my arm and the back of my leg. Apparently I'd been unconscious for a few days, and much of my strength had returned during that time.

The silence continued until Wes began humming an unfamiliar but pleasant melody. My eyes drew to the vocal movements in the inviting hollow of his throat. He stopped and cleared his throat when he sensed my stare, "That was an old song I wrote, The Meditation of Souls," he explained, thinking my intent stare had been because I was trying to deduce the rhythm. Finally he turned to face me again, "I'll play it for you some time,"

I blinked with surprise, "I thought you swore that you would never play again.."

He smiled softly. His hand drifted to encompass the slope of my shoulder blades before fiddling with curls that lay there, "I said a lot of things..." he pondered thoughtfully, "..But then there's also some things that I haven't,"

He took a deep breath, "I don't mind not being a policeman or a famous violinist.." He swallowed and averted his eyes from mine. I was astonished as a light pink sprinkle peppered his cheeks, "As long as I still get to protect you,"

I quickly looked over my shoulder to peer through the chink of light into the party within - the passing figures held no attention for us. We had some temporary reprieve. He followed my gaze. I relished the privacy by reaching up on the tips of my toes to press my lips against his. This just felt right, somehow. I was more sure of it than I'd ever been of anything.

We broke apart and I withheld my happy sigh. It felt so good to simply be close enough to touch him again, "Does this mean that your Father approves of me, or at least can suffer my company a little?" he asked in a deceptively casual tone. I could sense in our wavelength that it meant a lot more to him than he was letting on.

I opened my mouth to respond and a muted cough from behind us. We instantly sprang apart as though caught in some guilty act like children. My brother stood there working to keep some measure of control over his expression, betrayed by a tic twitching one of his eyebrows. He extended his hand from one pocket to offer it to me.

"I apologise for intruding, I wondered if I could steal Misery for one dance.." I inwardly cringed at his choice of timing and wondered if he had chosen to walk in on us with purpose. Wes had distracted me so much that I hadn't been able to sense his soul approaching nearer.

I remembered that I had promised him. It had become somewhat of a tradition that for a single song he swept me gracefully along the floor as others watched; we both knew it pleased our father. So, I hoped that Wes would understand, and nodded in agreement.

"Of course," the albino cordially agreed with that easy smile he could switch on at easy little notice to diffuse tension from any situation - good cop. Kid returned it as I took his extended arm and he led me back into the room.

"I truly am sorry that I interrupted.." The youngest Shinigami muttered. He gripped my hand and rose it to shoulder level, cutting a striking figure despite his diminutive height. I noticed he had found a clear spot that people were already avoiding from to give us more space.

I sighed, giving in to the dark sway of his Shinigami soul. It was impossible to resist when he was stood so close to me, "It's no problem," I tuned into the jazz music playing so that my feet would be prepared for the form of dance Kid picked.

"I only wanted to get a dance with my dear sister whom I hardly see.." he continued to chide. I got the distinct impression he was trying to make me feel guilty. I glanced across the room. My Father had raised his hand to silence his conversation with Spirit to look across at us.

"I feel as though I've seen you too much recently," I replied dryly. He stepped to the left and back. My feet mimicked to copy his effortlessly. Father began clapping. I strove to keep my face from revealing the way our conversation had taken, "Don't attempt to manipulate my emotions, Kid-ani. What did you really take me aside to say?"

He span me around and held me at arms length before drawing me back to a pace away from him in a practiced move, "You know that I've always felt the need to protect you, I don't feel that he-" the male reaper avoided my eyes as mine narrowed, "-Can do better at it than myself.."

I mused in silence knowing that his own skills could dance eloquently enough without my concentration for a few minutes. From the corner of my eye I glimpsed Wes as somebody in the crowd shifted. His head was dipped low so that shadows hid his eyes but I could tell from the positioning of his body he was watching us. I looked back up at Kid, "You're just going to have to trust me.."

He sighed at what he had probably hoped given the length of time would be a reply more satisfying for his own needs. As the song rose in crescendo he placed his hands slightly above my waist to lift me smoothly with precise grace - the crowd clapped with appreciation.

"Remember that I warned you about the terrible pain experienced when a rejected wavelength is expelled-" he began to dictate. I raised my hand to gently press against his chest. I fixed my eyes solidly with his, for a moment we stood still. This was not the time for a brotherly lecture.

"That won't happen.." I gave him a soft, easy smile. My gaze remained hard to show that I was resolute in my decision. I applied a gentle pressure so that he fell back into dancing again, "You've grown into a man, but you'll always be my younger brother to me,"

I watched something almost compassionate flicker in his leonine eyes. We stepped apart and the music ended with scattered well received applause. It most loudly emanating from my fathers large hands. Now we were finished other couples or groups of dancers gravitated back to begin dancing themselves.

"Father was right when he told me that there was nothing I can say that will sway your opinion.." Kid admitted begrudgingly. I eagerly nodded in agreement. Before I could respond to say that he should have listened he continued, "But at least tell me this. Now that Wes has the potential to hone his weapon abilities, will you stay here and help the people of Shibusen or go back...out there into the world?"

I glanced back and stayed silent. I felt a familiar, comforting soul ease its way through the crowd to behind my shoulder. I leaned backwards into Wes's reassuring presence,"Whatever he decides.." I answered truthfully.


End file.
